


Alive Inside

by HeadintheCloudsForever



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadintheCloudsForever/pseuds/HeadintheCloudsForever
Summary: 17-year-olds Eddie Kaspbrak and Beverly Marsh are kidnapped by Henry Bowers and his gang and must find a way to survive the older unhinged boy as his violent means of torturing his captors grow more dangerous, and their friendship is tested as Henry's desires switch towards Beverly. Eddie and Beverly will have to think of a way to escape Henry's clutches before it's too late.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Personal Confession Time: I really love the idea of a story that explores Eddie and Beverly's friendship, as these two were my favorites out of all the Loser's Club in Stephen King's IT, so this is kind of my attempt at exploring their relationship in a tough situation. Summary: Bev and Eddie are walking to school when they are kidnapped by Henry Bowers and his gang and have to work together to find a means of survival and the shared trauma they endure will test their friendship in new ways when Henry starts testing the boundaries of what he can get away with. Side tangent: Pennywise is in this a little bit (meant mostly to scare Eddie and Beverly), but he's not the main focus, and the main threat of this story is going to be Henry Bowers and his goons.

**Chapter One**

As usual, seventeen-year-old Beverly Marsh was running fucking late. It took her thirty minutes to drive through town to get to the school, given she and her Daddy lived in the apartment complex on the east side of Derry, and that was only _if_ she speeded and didn't get in Henry Bowers' way or some stupid crap like that, and it was the last day of high school, her last summer with the rest of the Loser's Club before they all started thinking about where they wanted to go to college. Bev was thinking as far away from her daddy the slum lord and pervert as she could get.

She furrowed her brows into a frown and clamped another bobby pin in her mouth, diving for her backpack and catching a glimpse of her reflection in the full-length mirror she had hung on the back of her bedroom door, giving a curt little nod of approval. Dressed in an olive green maxi wrap dress with flouncy short sleeves, floral embroidery detailing on the bodice, with a tie at the waistline, and a femme flowy high-low bottom hem, the very epitome of femininity. She ran a brush through her red hair, which was cut into a graceful long bob that cascaded in natural waves and layers, grazing to just past her collarbones.

Beverly wasn't beautiful in the classical way, no flowing golden curls or ivory skin; no piercing eyes of green. She was pale, almost so white that most were afraid to touch her, wondering if they reached out a hand to graze her skin, would they meet only the air, as if she were nothing more than a ghost, an apparition. She was shorter than average and certainly larger than a catwalk model, but in her ordinariness she was stunning. Something radiated from within that rendered her irresistible to both genders. She had a couple guys at school already asking her out.

Not that Daddy the slum lord would ever allow a guy to date me, Beverly thought bitterly, pursing her lips into a rigid scowl, toying with one of the rings she wore on her right hand, looking at her reflection.

Her makeup looked good. Usually she didn't wear it, but today was a special occasion. She figured the last day of class called for a little foundation, a tiny bit of eyeshadow and eyeliner, some pink lip gloss.

 _Wonder what Daddy is going to think of my new dress_ , Bev thought bitterly. Her dad, Alvin Marsh, was a bit of a drinker. It's how she'd gotten all her bruises, the ones on her collarbone, one on the top of her left hand. And theoretically, her self-induced scars.

But what hurt Bev the worst was the insecurity. The internal brokenness that only a person exposed to abuse could experience. It was like this: Those mental scars were a tapering factor in the serenity of domestic life. They caused agony that could only be seen on the inside. The pain that no one else saw, because…well, no one cared to see it for themselves. She knew this.

All her life, she was told that she was pretty. Bev knew what guys saw when they looked at her. Though she did not know it, was her eyes aside from her vibrant mane of red hair that they were drawn to. Her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips.

But her eyes, her eyes showed her soul. They were a deep pool of restless blue, an ocean of hopeless grief. Whenever a guy at school was fortunate enough to be able to look into her eyes they knew, all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turned Bev's eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them they read clearly that she would fight to the very last tear for her life. She would not let the world break her.

Sure, she could cry, but she would never let them take her true self from her. She clung to it with passion. Passion that made her beautiful.

Beverly furrowed her brows into a frown as she scowled, trying her hardest to cover up the bruise from the other night when she'd dared to talk back to Daddy after he claimed she hadn't cooked his pork chop thoroughly enough. No amount of makeup would cover this up. The bruise that had begun as a purple stain above her eyebrow had sunk into the socket itself, and so now it had the appearance of a black eye. In truth one of Daddy's rings had caught it when her father had drawn back his hand and slapped her hard enough to sting. She was wary of how fast she explained it and her tone of voice. If she appeared anxious or spoke too quickly, the other Losers might think she was a victim and cast suspicious glances. _You'll just have to come up with some other explanation, Bev_.

Her reflection stared unhelpfully back at her from the mirror as she attempted to hide or diminish the horrible looking welt with thick makeup. Determining it to be a lost cause, she huffed in defeat and gave up, tossing her brushes and makeup onto her little vanity in the corner.

Beverly slipped on her pair of sandals, grabbing her small compact black nylon backpack, and slinging it over her shoulders and bolted down the hallway, making to head towards the side door of the kitchen that led down the fire escape and out onto the street to make for the sidewalk, when her father's harsh bark of a voice halted the poor girl in her tracks.

"Bevvy," came Daddy's voice, slightly slurred but also alert. "You're lookin' _real_ nice today. As pretty as your momma. What's the hurry?"

Bev cast her gaze downward, feeling her fingers curl into a protective fist over the strap of her backpack. If she had to, she could use her backpack as a weapon against Daddy, since it was stuffed full to the brim with her textbooks she planned to dump into the trash soon as the bell rang. "Th—thank you, Daddy," Bev whispered, feeling the heat creep to her cheeks. She flinched as Alvin Marsh's towering form cast a shadow over her as she gingerly reached out a hand, stretching for the doorknob.

To sweet, sweet freedom. It was her goal this summer to spend as far away from this shithole and Daddy as possible. Bev bit her bottom lip in a slight pout and hated that her palms had begun to shake and tremble.

"You're still my little girl, aren't you, Bevvy?" her father growled, a low warning growl escaping the back of his throat. Bev drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs and visibly flinched as she felt his fat, sausage-like fingers absentmindedly toy with a lock of her hair. "You're getting' older every day, you know. More'n more like your momma you look."

 _That's what he says every day_ , Beverly thought, clenching her eyes shut and feeling her facial muscles in her jaw tense and lock up, bracing herself for Daddy to hit her whenever he got riled up about her 'beauty.'

Bev's fingers twitched and she balled her free hand into a fist to keep from lashing out at something in anger. Such a response would only invoke her father's violent temper even worse. She didn't want that.

She was already going to be late as it was, and the rest of the Losers, Bill, Stan, Richie, Eddie, Mike, and Ben, would all be wondering where she was. Beverly swallowed past the lump forming in her throat and meekly nodded, hating that her Daddy had the ability to render her legs to mush, and a horrible, hot, seething anger welled deep in the pit of her stomach. "Yes, Daddy," she whispered hoarsely, keeping her eyes fixed on anything but Alvin Marsh. Bev hissed and flinched as her father withdrew his hand from her hair, but not before leaning down and sniffing it, inhaling the scent of honeysuckle and her lavender shampoo.

"You know I worry about you, Bevvy," Alvin said, shaking his head in disbelief as he glanced at his teenage daughter's outfit. "You're a young woman now, an' boys—especially your age—only got one thing on their mind. I know," he growled. "I know all too well, Bevvy. Don't we?"

"Yes, Daddy." Bev bit her bottom lip hard enough to crack and bleed.

Her father smiled, though it did not reach Alvin's cold, blue eyes. He scowled, pursing his lips into a thin line, and turned back towards their little breakfast nook, tossing his truck keys onto the little wooden table.

"You eaten yet?" he murmured by way of response. "An' coffee doesn't count, Bev. Gotta eat if you're gonna be a strong woman."

 _So that I can handle more of you nightly fuckings?_ She thought.

The words tumbled out of Beverly's mouth before she could stop herself. "No, Daddy, but it does whenever you're in a rush. Why do I have to eat breakfast in the mornings if you don't, Daddy?" she snapped.

Beverly watched as her backtalk hit their mark and her father's face paled in anger and he sneered, balling his hands into a fist. "Because you gotta earn the right to ruin your own fuckin' life," Alvin Marsh snapped.

Beverly glowered at her father, huffing in frustration, and stomping her foot in anger, folding her arms across her chest. "Daddy, I gotta go," she whispered pleadingly, still biting that bottom lip. She wasn't even aware it was bleeding until she took a glance in the side mirror and saw the blood. "Please, Daddy, I—I'm gonna be late," Beverly begged.

But her father shook his head no, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger as though he was fighting off a splitting fucking headache.

Glancing towards the clock that hung on the mantle above their kitchen sink where Bev did most of the dishes in the evenings, Alvin let out a growl. He was running on ten minutes late because of Beverly.

Work was going to have to wait a few minutes. She would be punished for it later, but right now, he just needed to make sure she ate.

His girl was getting too goddamned skinny for his liking, her cheekbones had a sallow, gaunt, almost sunken in look. Made her look ill.

Alvin's lips pursed into such a thin line they almost disappeared as he stomped over towards the fridge and pulled out the milk and poured Bev a bowl of cereal, thinking this was a fucking joke if he failed her that much as a father, that she wouldn't even fucking eat in the mornings.

Beverly swallowed past the lump in her throat as Daddy gave her that look from the kitchen table and pointed towards her usual chair. It wasn't a request. That look he was currently giving her was the one he reserved for her whenever Beverly was being 'stupid' in his words, not listening to him. If she took it far enough, sometimes Daddy would use the switch.

" _Eat_ ," he snarled, pointing towards her bowl of untouched cereal. "I'm not gonna come an' get you from the school today if I get a call from the nurse sayin' you passed the fuck out again. I can't keep an eye on you all goddamned summer long, Bevvy. Some of us have to work."

"Breakfast of champions," grumbled Beverly tersely as she took a bite of Lucky Charms. She scowled, though she looked away from her father.

"It's that or the fuckin' air." Alvin pretended to contemplate on the matter further and he frowned as he noticed the bruise he'd accidentally given her had turned a nasty shade of purple, and Beverly caught him staring. "You know I wouldn't do this if I didn't love you so much."

Bev froze, almost dropping her spoon back in the bowl with a loud clatter. "I—I know, Daddy," she whispered, surprised she could find her voice at all. "I—it's really not that bad. I bruise easily. We know that."

Beverly knitted her brows together in confusion and felt the tension in her shoulders leave her body as she exhaled slowly through her nose, recognizing defeat and nodded her head meekly, knowing when to give in. Alvin Marsh grinned, though his smile was almost fucking predatory.

Like a wolf, his daughter thought and repressed a shudder as it traveled down her spine, chilling her, and freezing her insides. She felt…cold.

Cold and alone, fuming in her anger at her current living situation.

In her nights, Alvin Marsh was Beverly's own personal fucking monster and in her days, he was the same. There were times when she couldn't tell the nightmare of her reality from the fiction of her nightmares. Sometimes there were clues the young teen only caught in retrospect.

The apartment would be different, or he'd developed a supernatural strength almost each time his hand would reach out to strike at her. There are moments Beverly's gaze would often fall on the road that passed their apartment complex and headed out of Derry, Maine, and follow the cracked and dappled grey to the bend in the road where it twists out of sight. Sometimes, Beverly wondered what might happen if she were take a step on it and just keep going. Momma always said there was love out there for everyone and Beverly just assumed Daddy was it.

Bev wished she could go stay with her aunt and uncle in Portland, but there's no way Daddy would ever allow that. Not even for the summer.

She sighed, slipping her little black backpack off her shoulder, and plunking it at her feet, crossing one leg over the other, and she had forgotten about the leg slit in her dress that went all the way up. Bev winced, her spoonful of Lucky Charms not even halfway to her mouth as she felt Daddy's spindly fingers that felt more like a spider's leg drift over the smooth skin of her leg. "Wh—what are you doing, Daddy?"

"If you tell anyone of our 'little games,' Bevvy, they'll take me away, lock me up and make me sad. You love me too much to let that happen, little pumpkin," Alvin growled, toying with a lock of Beverly's fiery red hair. "I'm all you got now that your mother's dead. So, I'll tell you what, Bevvy. You keep our…little secret, and I'll take you out for ice cream this weekend. You an' me, we'll go to the Dairy Queen or something. Get the chocolate blizzards you love so goddamned much. If the cops take me away if you squeal, then our ice cream trips will just go away. I know you don't want to do that to your poor old dad, do you, Bev? So, what'll it be this weekend, then, little dove? The Chocolate Extreme or the Oreo?" he grinned, flashing her a white smile that had started to yellow, thanks to all the cigarettes he smoked. Bev swallowed past the lump forming in her throat as her stomach gave a painful little lurch.

She could taste the bile coating her tongue and she swallowed it. "I…the chocolate, Daddy," she whispered, bowing her head in defeat.

"Good." Bev hissed, the noise barely audible as she felt her father's strong hand drift towards the back of her neck and linger there, giving it a light squeeze. "I'm runnin' late," he snapped, the momentary warmth of his voice completely gone. He pointed towards her bowl of Lucky Charms. "Promise your old man you'll finish that? Remember, girl, I get one more call from the school sayin' you're tryin' to starve yourself or this is just some attention seekin' bullshit, you'll get _worse_ than the switch. You _know_ what happens when you piss me off?" Alvin demanded.

Beverly blearily lifted her head as her father's hand came to grip underneath her chin and cup it in his hand, tilting it upwards and forcing his daughter to look him in the eyes. Her blue eyes flashed, her gaze unabashed and unwavering, and although her voice trembled and shook as the words tumbled out of her mouth, not once did she break eye contact. "I promise, Daddy," she answered steadily, exhaling a sigh of relief as she felt her father violently release his ironclad grasp on her chin.

"Then I'm headed out. Be home late. Leftover pizza in the fridge if you want some. Don't stay out too late with those goddamned _boys_ ," here, Alvin Marsh spat the words as if it were poison that had settled on his tongue. "I want you home by six. You ain't here by 5:59, I'm callin' the cops. Still don't like you spendin' the whole summer with a buncha goddamned perverted _boys_ ," Alvin Marsh snarled, sounding disgusted.

"Y—yes, Daddy," Beverly whispered, her voice cracking as she blinked back briny tears. "I—I know the rules. No boys here. I promise. Y—you don't have to worry, I—I promise. They're just friends. N-nothing r—romantic between us at all, Daddy. I—I swear it, Daddy."

"Good." His daughter flinched away from his touch as he gingerly pressed his lips to her forehead, either completely ignoring how Beverly's body seemed to tense and stiffen at his tender touch or was oblivious. "Have a good day, Bevvy," he breathed, his hand lingering longer on her shoulder, his fingers feeling more like claws, than she would have liked.

Satisfied that he had played the role of father to the best of his abilities given his immense time constraints, Alvin Marsh grabbed his truck keys and promptly quit the kitchen, slamming the door on his way outside.

By the time he had backed his pickup truck out of the apartment complex where they lived, his head was already immersed in his work.

Alvin Marsh was so caught up in a world far away from their shitty little hovel that dared to call itself a fucking apartment, where at that very moment in their little kitchen nook, his daughter stood up and scraped the remainder of her cereal into the trash can without ever taking a single bite.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Every night it was always the fucking same. The fucking clown from the goddamn sewers of the Neibolt House would rap on Eddie's bedroom window (which for any normal person would be impossible since he lived on the second floor of their house and after the summer he'd broken his arm when he was only twelve, his ma had a company come out and remove the tree by his bedroom window so his friends couldn't scale the trunk anymore and visit him after dark.)

IT would rap on the windows and shake the glass pane before shimmying up the drainpipe of Eddie's mom's house and climbing in Eddie's open window. That part never changed. The fucking clown would creep from room to room, looking for Eddie, calling his name in that childlike, singsong voice of his.

_"Eddie…where are ya, Eds? Dontcha know it's time to float?"_ Then eventually, Eddie would be found, trembling in his closet, or hiding underneath a blanket under his bed like he was five years old.

IT would lunge, its teeth bared, and Eddie would scream and then—

Eddie jolted upright; mouth hung open in a silent scream. Though his eyes were open, he couldn't fucking think of why that was. His heart was pounding against its cage, his mind utterly empty and hazy almost, like a tv that had gone static. He strained into the utter darkness of his bedroom with the curtains drawn over his windows. Just in case IT came back.

_But we killed IT_ , Richie's voice rang out in his mind, and already, just hearing his best friend's voice resonate in his eardrums like this was beginning to calm him down. Eddie let out a groan and collapsed back against his pillow, beads of sweat on his brow, heart racing slowly easing back to something that resembled normal. "Fuck me," he growled.

_Did I really just dream all that shit? What if it—what it IT's real?_

"What if IT's not asleep? Wh-what if we didn't fucking kill the clown a-and it lied about going to sleep?" Eddie whispered in a breathy squeak. "Oh, fuck!" he gasped out, automatically reaching for his inhaler.

Sometimes, living in a small town the size of Derry, Maine could be a good thing, where everybody knew everybody else, called each other by first name basis, you were bound to run into someone familiar, whether it was at the grocery store, at school, at the movies, video arcade, didn't matter.

And other times…it haunted you. Like right now. He and the other Losers in their group didn't really talk about what happened, especially not Bev, but Eddie thought she was the one aside from maybe Bill because he'd lost Georgie that had been affected the most.

After all, she'd been kidnapped by the fucking clown, had been forced to stare into IT's Deadlights for god knows how long…

Eddie Kaspbrak's alarm clock blared on his nightstand, shrill, beeping, fucking loud and was sure to bring his mom barreling towards his door to ensure that he was awake. He groaned and rolled back over, burying his face in his pillow, wanting nothing more than to fall back asleep and dream of nothing.

Eddie stifled a muffled groan and buried his head in his pillow as the sound of his mom's knuckles rapping on his door. "Eddie Bear?" came her strangely soothing voice, though to Eddie (though he would never admit it anyone but the other Loser's), her voice always sounded like poisoned honey, or rusty nails on a chalkboard, maybe.

"Yeah, Ma, I'm up," he groaned, rising to his feet, and padding barefoot over to his dresser, rummaging through his chest of drawers until he found a decent t-shirt, jeans, and pulled his red hoodie overtop that. Eddie made a mad grab for his bottle of pills and his aspirator for his asthma, which he knew now to be bullshit, that HydrOx, and his pills a bunch of placebos, (though he still liked to call them gazebos, secretly) though he hated that there was still a large part of himself that _depended_ on this shit. It was all he had ever known, ever since he was five or six.

He knew there would be a bowl of cereal already poured and waiting for him, along with his six daily doses of vitamins, with a glass of whole milk. Eddie furrowed his brow into a frown, head slumped onto his hands as he took a seat at the kitchen table, watching Sonia Kaspbrak labor over making her only child's lunch, same as every school morning.

It was fucking embarrassing, really. He was seventeen years old, for God's sake, almost eighteen by the end of November, and his ma still faithfully packed his lunches for him like he was in fucking kindergarten.

"Good morning, Eddie," chirped Sonia jovially, a smile plastered onto her pink-tinted lips. Eddie could briefly smell the faint scent of whatever cherry lip gloss she used and had to fight to crinkle his nose in disgust.

The fattest person Eddie had ever known in Derry, sad to say, was his mother. He would swear to his friends at school that she was two full seats on any airline or bus. Sonia Kaspbrak lived her life as if to dispel any suggestion that 'fat' was supposed to be auto-linked to 'jolly.' His ma was the most sullen and cynical bitch that ever breathed, but Eddie still loved her for it. There was a strange kind of honesty to Sonia Kaspbrak.

Sonia never sugar coated anything that wasn't edible, and if you wanted straight up facts about what his mom thought of his friends, she was your go-to woman, but for anything else, it was better to stay away.

Eddie scowled, his frown creating deep lines on his face on his forehead, and a groove near his mouth as his lips curled downwards.

All anyone ever saw when they looked at his mother was poor self-control, someone so weak willed that she'd let herself go this much.

Her gait over the years had become really awkward, and now she shuffled more than she walked, and Eddie meanly thought a bunch of times that if you really wanted to get her to go somewhere, just kick her off the couch and roll her down the fucking street like she was a ball.

The people of Derry didn't think Sonia noticed how they turned to stare at Eddie's mother in the street, some pointed, some didn't care if she did see, or hear the hushed whispers about his mom's overbearing behavior in a desperate attempt to control her son, the one aspect of her life she had at least some measure of control over.

Some people had really obvious addictions, to tobacco, caffeine, or painkillers. But Sonia Kaspbrak's was way too obvious to miss, and she wore it like a thick overcoat wherever she went. She had a sweet tooth.

Not only that, but she used food as a comfort whenever her son dared to speak out against her. He was almost a legal adult in a few more months, and once he went away to college, she would be an empty nester. She couldn't cope with that horribly depressing thought, so she was eating more and more these days, and as a result, insisting Eddie take more to eat too, claiming she needed to 'put meat on his bones,' before allowing him to go off to school, citing that 'college food' as not nutritious. To cope with the fact that her precious little Eddie Bear would be leaving her, she ate, always reaching for food whenever she cried, was now so ingrained that it was just what Sonia did. When she was sad, she ate, when she was anxious, which was most of the fucking time, she ate.

When she was stressed, she ate. All that pain, so visible, totally ignored. Eddie could see it happening to his mom but didn't know what to do to help. He certainly wasn't going to miss out on his chance to get as far away from this shithole of a town as possible. He wasn't skipping college and living at home with his mother all his life. Hell to the no.

"Not yet it isn't," grumbled Eddie darkly, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand and shoveling a spoonful of Kix cereal into his mouth.

_Ugh, awful_ , he thought, fighting back the urge to gag. Stale Kix. Still, it might be the only decent meal besides lunch he would get today until dinner. At least while he and the other Loser's were at school, he could always count on Henry fucking Bowers or Patrick Hoffsteader was the one who really seemed to have it out for Eddie, more so than the others.

Just the other day, Henry had purposefully run into Eddie in the cafeteria during their lunch period and 'accidentally' spilled Eddie's carton of chocolate milk all over his history textbook. Luckily, a teacher happened to be nearby and stepped in for Eddie's defense, which at the time had been fine, since Mrs. Vanderhilt, their art teacher, had forced Henry to buy and bring Eddie a new carton of milk, but later on the walk home, Henry had cornered Eddie and said he was going to make him pay, though he hadn't specified when or where or how he would do it.

He would have hoped now that they were all seniors in high school Bowers and his goons would have grown the fuck up and matured, quit the incessant bullying and moved onto other targets besides them, but if anything, as they aged, it only got worse.

Thank fuck today was Friday, _and_ the last day of school before their summer vacation. Their last one as a group. They all had plans to go to the quarry tomorrow and take a swim before catching the latest creature show at the movies. Just the thought of not seeing his friends again was enough to bring a painful frog to Eddie's throat, and he fought back the urge to cough it down, or else it would give his Ma an aneurysm and she'd take him to the hospital, probably.

The other guys, especially Richie, and ever since Bev had joined their group and had the honor of being the only girl in the Loser's Club, she had especially stuck up for Eddie when Henry _really_ got fucking going, even going so far as to last week pelt Bowers with one of her textbooks, totally ruining it in the process when Henry had chucked it into the river, but Bev didn't seem to give a shit as she'd screamed at him, a slew of venomous cuss words that Eddie thought he'd never hear from her, let alone think that Marsh would know what they meant, poured from her mouth, all that hate and animosity towards Bowers.

Eddie watched his mom labor over a pot on the stove that looked suspiciously like Cream of White and crinkled his nose in disgust as she added a copious helping of brown sugar to the bland like substance.

He'd never been able to eat the stuff with real enthusiasm, but she _lived_ for it in the mornings. Every morning, without fail, the same breakfast. A bowl of that and a glass of orange juice. By the time she was done stirring the creamy porridge, Eddie could practically taste it on the tip of his tongue, and he flinched as his stomach growled noisily, and he had to swallow back a pool of saliva.

His ma's voice was like that teacher on The Peanuts. "Waaa waaa waa. Homework. Waa, waa, waa. Grandma. Waa, waa, waa. Dessert." That last word seemed important. Eddie perked up at the noise and raised his head, blinking at his mother owlishly a few times.

"Dessert?"

"Ahh, so you _can_ hear me, then, Eddie," Sonia snapped, shooting a venomous look her only son's way and turned around, the pot of hot breakfast cereal in her hands as she poured the stuff into two bowls, one for her, and an even more generous helping for Eddie.

Eddie slumped back down in his chair again. It had been just another fucking ruse to get his attention. Dessert. He began to think on that idea a bit more. He could make one and bring it to their hangout tomorrow at the quarry. What's easy? What had no chopping, peeling, or mixing and was completely unhealthy? His mom was talking again. "Waa, waa, waa. Your father. Waa, waa, waa. Messy room. Waa, waa, waa." His bowl of both stale nasty Kix that tasted like ass and now this steaming hot bowl of Cream of Wheat with way too much brown sugar dumped on it to be considered healthy were staring at him in the face, begging him to eat.

Eddie could settle for that if it meant not having to talk to _her_.

He couldn't take anymore of this shit. He had to get out of here, or he was really going to explode and say something to his ma he'd regret.

Shoveling the last bites of both cereals into his mouth, he gagged a little at the combination of a hot and cold cereal combined, but swallowed it back, zipping up his favorite red hoodie and grabbing his backpack, bolting for the door. "'Kay, Ma, that's really great," he hollered at whatever Sonia was shouting to him. "I—I gotta go, or I'll be late."

"Don't take the car!" she screeched, and Eddie winced at the shrillness of her voice. Already, she sounded like a fucking pterodactyl whenever she got going on one of her rants. "It looks like it's going to rain, Eddie."

Eddie frowned, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He squinted and glanced out the window. Gray clouds but didn't look like a storm.

"It's not gonna rain, Ma," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Besides, I got my jacket," he murmured sheepishly, tugging on his red hoodie as if to prove his point to Sonia.

"If you take my car, you could hydroplane, Eddie Bear!" she wailed, the beginnings of tears pricking at her eyes. "Y—you're really starting to scare me. I keep telling you not to go out when the roads are slick like this and you _never_ listen to me, Eddie. You could stay home. It's your last day of school, why's it so important to go? You could stay here, and I could make you your favorites. A blueberry pie to celebrate no more school? Wouldn't you like that? You don't need to go see your _friends_."

The way she uttered the last word of her sentence was spat more than spoken, and the bitterness in her tone was unmistakable. Eddie bit his bottom lip, sticking it out in a slight pout and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror that Sonia had hung in the hallway entryway of their house. It was no secret to Eddie or anyone else that she hated the rest of his friends in the Loser's Club, but reserved the worst of her animosity for Richie and Beverly, claiming Richie was a bad influence on Eddie Spaghetti because of his foul Trashmouth and vulgar jokes, and Bev simply because Sonia Kaspbrak thought Marsh was one of those 'dirty girls,' in her words, and she didn't want a dirty girl like Marsh touching her son, her precious baby. Eddie felt his temper swell, creating a pit deep in his stomach and his intestines felt like they gave a painful little lurch.

Or maybe that was the nasty bowls of cereal he'd just eaten. Either way, he couldn't stand around and listen to this shit from his ma any longer. He didn't both to stifle the low warning growl in the back of his throat. "Ma, I am not gonna hydroplane," he sighed, a look of exasperation on his face as he shifted his weight to his other foot, glancing down at his sneakers. Eddie glanced at his reflection out of the corner of his eye and flinched. He had long since lost the traces of his boyhood.

That clean shaven square jawline, his tuft of short cropped dark hair, sometimes he wore glasses for school, which gave him kind of a Clark Kent look about him, the dark hair and the glasses and his clothes—nerdy but almost strong, though he often had sort of a hen-pecked look to him.

His old maroon t-shirt was a small, but on him it was like he'd stolen it from a big brother or something, if he'd been fortunate (or unfortunate enough, depending on how you looked at it) to have one growing up.

It clung where it shouldn't to his thin frame and hung loose where it shouldn't. Eddie's face had kind of a skeletal look despite his good chiseled jawline, skeletal really, and dark circles under his eyes.

No one's cheekbones should stick out as far as his did. The reflection that stared back at Eddie had no trace of life other than his dark eyes.

He had the form of a young adult but not the confidence. He moved like he was still taking his body for a test drive, not really sure if it was his for keeps. Whenever the girls at school would look Eddie's way, he would return the glance with just a hint of shyness and awkwardness before turning away briefly, not sure what to say to them as they'd pass by his locker in the hallway. But his expression was listless, almost lifeless…

It felt like he was breathing without really being alive, and he couldn't wait to get the fuck out of this house that always smelled of disinfectant and Clorox wipes and spend his last summer here with the other Loser's.

_Anything but to remain here_ , Eddie thought darkly to himself.

Eddie's shoulders, especially about creeps like Bowers or even his mother, would often hunch together, much like they were doing now of their own accord, like he was always trying to disappear inside of himself.

Even his dark eyes seemed to be attempting to retreat inside his head as his mind wracked for a fast response to get out of this little situation.

"Mom, it's not gonna rain," Eddie protested, trying one last time to reach her and still end this little confrontation peacefully with no tears. "Look, i-if it really bothers you that much that you think I'd crash the car, then I'll walk to school. Yes," he added sternly before Sonia could open her mouth to protest. "I've got my umbrella and my medicines. Bye, Mom, love you!" he hollered, sensing the hesitation in her stance.

Eddie Kaspbrak wrenched open the front door of their house and bolted down the steps and broke into a light jog, ignoring his mother's wailing protests that he stay home, which he just could _not_ fucking do.

No way. To do that was like committing social suicide, after all. Not on the last day of school, today that marked summer vacation. Distance was all that mattered to Eddie. He wasn't going to stop for any damn thing and he sure as hell wasn't stopping to turn back around and try to reassure his mother. _She's going to be just fine_ , he told himself.

Eddie inhaled a sharp breath of warm spring air that almost pained his lungs and sent a jolt through his spine. His hand not clutching onto the strap of his backpack hovered in the pocket of his hoodie where he kept his aspirator, just in case, but the more distance he put between himself and his house, he felt the tension leave his shoulders and his muscles relax.

The seventeen-year-old walked down the street of his neighborhood, feeling the rough cracks through the thin soles of his sneakers, the wind moving as if Eddie weren't there at all, as if he were a ghost, nothing more. Time felt like it slowed down whenever he was away from home.

Eddie felt his lips curl into a smile as he spotted a flash of red and olive green sitting on the low wall at the corner of his neighborhood. Beverly.

She had selflessly agreed to walk with Eddie all this week after Bowers had cornered Eddie a couple of days ago and had given him a beating so bad it made Dachau look like a fucking tropical paradise. He hadn't gone home immediately after, hobbling his way over to Richie's to get patched up. He smiled in spite of the trepidation he felt at Henry's threat, which still lingered in his mind, refusing to part from his thoughts. _When I'm finished with you, Girly Boy, you're gonna haveta pick which asshole you wanna shit through, you got that? You're in a world of hurt, Eds_.

Eddie swallowed, feeling his breathing go rapid and shallow as his breaths quickened as he approached Beverly, who was looking rather cute today in a new green dress, one he'd not seen on her before, her backpack plopped carelessly at her feet, and Eddie suppressed a snort as he watched the nylon material of the main compartment sway haphazardly in the wind, and he knew that she had already dumped all of her textbooks into the nearest trash can she could find, probably the minute she left home.

When she shifted her legs to adjust to a more comfortable position, he could see she was wearing open-toed brown sandals that showed off her love for toenail polish. Slung across her body was a simple black crossbody messenger bag, not very big, just enough to hold her wallet and maybe a few essentials, utilitarian in style, and looked more like something a guy would carry on a long trip than a girl would, but that was Bev for you, always preferring practicality and simplicity over fashion. She wasn't like all the other girls in their high school, and for that, Eddie liked her. Bev wasn't a _bitch_ like Greta Keene was to Eddie.

He glanced up at Bev as she smushed out the last of her cigarette she'd been smoking, but not before she took one final drag and blew the puff of smoke off to the left, courteously keeping it away from Eddie's face.

Eddie's gaze drifted upwards, his lips pursing into a thin line as he noticed the purple bruise underneath her eye. _Did Henry do that to her?_

Beverly Marsh had smooth dry skin with small freckles sprinkled about her cute slender nose like confetti. Her eyebrows curved in swooping arches over her eyes and her small button nose complemented her wide forehead and kind of sharp chin. Beverly was always so damn proud of her hair, but it wasn't the best thing about his second best friend. It fell in red waves about her pale skin, the tips of the ends just grazing her collarbone, so striking that it was the only thing people commented on.

Eddie had never noticed Bev much before she'd joined their group a few summers ago. The other guys in town had done some pretty nasty things to her over the years, treating her like she was some kind of street walker, calling her nasty names whenever she'd shoot down their flirting.

Beverly had gone away for a month last year on a trip, shortly after she turned sixteen, her father had taken her away somewhere, and the rest of them, Bill, Stan, Richie, Mike, and particularly Ben for some reason, had been bummed about her leaving, but then she'd returned like nothing had ever happened.

They had all known her when she was just thirteen. A few years had passed and now, she was seventeen and filled out, just enough to give her some curves in all the right places. She'd let her red hair grow out and go wavy again, falling in relaxed curls past her shoulders, and when she smiled, you felt… _happy_.

Now that they were about to graduate and be done with high school and Derry forever, this wasn't at all like when they were kids in middle school, but all of them, they'd all been through so much because of IT and it was just a shared traumatic experience that all of them had bonded over.

Eddie shuddered, repulsed as he thought of Pennywise the Clown and fought back the visions that danced in the forefront of his mind. Of IT's smile.

Beverly stomped out the last of her cigarette on the concrete wall and shot him a surprisingly kind and white smile. Eddie felt his mouth go dry.

Bev really _was_ looking hella cute in her new green dress and those sandals, though Eddie would never dare to admit it out loud.

Ben was probably gonna go berserk later. The two of them were sort of dating, even though Ben was starting to get a ton of attention from other girls in class since he'd lost a whole bunch of weight last summer, and now he looked like he resembled one of those handsome Brazilian soccer players now that he was thin and lean.

But Hanscom seemed to have eyes only for Beverly, and ever since she'd found it was him who had written her that poem about her, well...that was good enough for her.

She looked his way, her mouth forming that perfect smile. It wasn't the color of her blue eyes necessarily that were so breathtaking, as it was what was inside them. Beneath the mascara and heavy eyelids. And bright. Her eyes sparkled like storm clouds right before lightning hit. Clouds of gray and blue threatened floods and fury while pupils dilated in passion, eyelashes catching the raindrops that fell. She cared far too much.

Beverly Marsh to Eddie Kaspbrak had kind of an understated beauty to her, maybe it was because she was so disarmingly unaware of just how naturally pretty she was. Her pale skin, save for that light smattering of freckles on her slender nose, was pretty much flawless, and minus that hell of a black eye that someone—probably Henry or Patrick—had given her.

The only girl in the Loser's Club was all about simplicity. Eddie doubted she used face masks or expensive shit that the other girls like Greta used. That wasn't really her m.o. Nope. Beverly Marsh was a girl all about simplicity, making things easy, helping guys like Eddie to relax and be happy with what they already had. Maybe that's why it always seemed like her skin glowed, why Ben couldn't keep his hands off her.

The inner beauty was what lit up her blue eyes, softened her features. Whenever she smiled, which was more these days now that the fucking clown had been dealt with, and when she laughed, Eddie couldn't help but smile and laugh along with her too, even if it were just on the inside.

"Hey, Eds," Beverly grinned, unfolding her legs, and crossing her arms across her chest. "I've been waiting for you, Eddie Spaghetti, thought you'd finally decided to grow a pair of balls and ditch for a change," she joked, hopping off the wall and crinkling her nose, pulling a face as she grabbed her now empty backpack, wasting no time in giving it one last look of disgust before deciding it was a lost cause to save her little black backpack and chucking it into the trash, throwing it over her shoulder, and taking a moment to adjust her little black square messenger bag she wore over slung over her body. Definitely not girly at all. In fact, it kind of looked like something Eddie himself would carry now that fanny packs had gone out of style, and he could respect Beverly for that.

Eddie flinched and shirked away as Beverly reached up and playfully tousled Eddie's hair, ruffling it and giving him a coy little smirk.

"Hey, stop that!" he shouted, jerking away as she then reached over and bobbed him on the nose with her purple manicured forefinger.

"Aw, don't be that way, Eds," Beverly teased, sticking out her bottom lip and biting it in a slight pout, her smile fading as her face grew crestfallen, but Eddie liked to think he knew her better than most.

Maybe even a little bit better than Ben did.

"I'm just messing with you," Beverly grinned, letting out a sigh and adjusting her bag, taking a second to unzip the main compartment and plunk her carton of Camels back into her bag. "Ready for this?"

She was referring to their last day of high school, and then…sweet freedom. Eddie couldn't wait to get the fuck out, nor could anyone else.

"It's a big scary year coming, yeah?" she continued, slinging her arm around Eddie's shoulder, choosing to ignore it as she felt Eddie draw in a hiss of breath and involuntarily stiffen at such close contacts—the _germs_ —but she rolled her eyes and chose to ignore it as she closed off the gap of space between them and walked with Eddie Kaspbrak down the street.

Beverly was referring to everyone leaving Derry and going off to school. They were all going to different places. Richie out to California to try to get into acting with all his goddamned voice impressions, Ben and Beverly had both been accepted to a really good school in Colorado, Ben studying architecture and Beverly hoped to get into fashion design.

Stan, if Eddie remembered correctly, wanted to go to Virginia to some school with a good Accounting program. Bill was another one headed to California, but to pursue his writing and hopefully start getting published.

To his knowledge, the only one with plans to stay put here was Mike.

"It is," he agreed solemnly, nodding his head and Beverly launched into one of her usual, "Guess what?" stories, which Eddie was only too happy to listen to, and as the pair of friends walked down the street, neither teenager failed to notice Henry's car parked on the side of the road or the driver who sat behind the wheel, smoking a joint and frowning.

Henry Bowers was watching them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I never realized how much fun writing for Henry Bowers is. He's definitely dark and creepy, and very much a bastard in this, but I'm leaning towards giving him at least a little bit of sympathy so he's not so one-dimensional. Henry is still violent and an asshole, and definitely doesn't excuse or condone his actions, but it might help if I explained them a little bit at some point. Perhaps in future chapters. I got this idea to write down the story after having a dream about it a couple weeks ago, so I cranked out an outline and wrote this story down in the span of maybe two weeks and just never got around to posting it. At the end, I just kind of sat there staring at the computer screen, the product of a steady writer's diet of diet soda, potato chips, and chocolate for the especially dark parts, the Henry parts, thinking, "What the hell did I just write?" And this is it, so whatever this is...I hope you enjoy :)

**Chapter Three**

Henry Bowers sat seated behind the wheel of his parked car. His expression was of one being forced to endure an unpleasant odor as he sourly watched the pair of Losers saunter down the fucking sidewalk of Kaspbrak's neighborhood like they owned the whole goddamned block.

He was hoping to get Girly Boy all on his own, but he owed the Marsh bitch a solid upper cut to that pretty little jaw of hers for daring to open her trash mouth and talk back to him for defending her faggot friend. His cold gaze was unwavering and unabashed. His cold black eyes were like bottomless pools of darkness with nothing there to behold.

If you were unlucky enough to get close enough to look Henry Bowers in the eyes, you'd be shocked to say you'd find nothing inside.

Nothing. It's like looking into a depth of never-ending darkness combined with a large amount of charcoal being thrown at your face. His eyes were black. Pure black. You would expect to see his daddy's ocean blue irises staring back at you given how much he resembled Butch Bowers, but instead, you'd see a small portal of Tartarus, just waiting for you to jump in if you let yourself get close enough to Bowers.

Those black eyes of Henry's did not travel up to Beverly Marsh's face or down to her sandals, but they followed her as if really focusing on something a couple of feet further away. Perhaps his introspective nature led him to be locked in sick twisted thoughts of making these brats pay as he watched the two Loser's walk down the sidewalk, the girl's arm slung over the weak one's shoulder as she chatted animatedly about something unimportant.

He had the window rolled down and could catch bits of their conversation. Marsh was saying something to puny little Kaspbrak.

"…well you've gotta start thinking about who you want to be with. We're all getting ready to leave this place forever, Eds, I hope," Beverly was saying in a slightly teasing tone that made Henry's anger surge and course through his veins in a newfound heightened awareness. "Like, how to please them, you know? You feel me, Kaspbrak, it's really easy—"

"Wh— _what_?" Kaspbrak spluttered, sounding highly offended. Neither of them noticed Henry's car tailing them yet, which made it easier for Bowers and his crew to eavesdrop on their stupid vapid conversation.

Beverly Marsh huffed in frustration and tossed her thick red wavy hair back over her shoulders. "I'm talking about _sex_ , Eds. I thought you knew where I was going with this. You mean you never…had one before?" she asked, the hint of a smile on her lips.

"One what?" Eddie asked, sounding thoroughly confused, his dark eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What'd you mean, Bev?"

Though he couldn't see it, Bowers could practically see the redheaded bitch rolling her eyes, a look of exasperation on her face. "An orgasm, Eds. Don't tell me you've never had one! Y—you're almost _eighteen_!"

Bowers watched, his face twisted into a horrible grimace as Eddie seemed to hesitate, thinking over whatever it was he wanted to say next, and after a moment or two of an awkward silence, leaned over and whispered something into the shell of the redhead's ear, his voice barely audible.

Whatever he said was too low for Bowers and his crew to make out, and Henry had to bite down on his tongue hard enough he could taste the blood welling on his tongue, thick, with a strange metallic taste. Bowers had a feeling he could guess Eddie's answer, if the girl's response were anything for him to go off of, the way her mouth hung open slightly in shock and then she threw back her head and laughed.

The idea of _anybody_ fucking wimpy little Kaspbrak was a goddamned joke. Boy could hardly breathe without his fucking inhaler. He couldn't imagine the boy lasting long enough to get off or satisfy the girl. _Or that Trashmouth Tozier, that fucking little faggot_ , he thought.

But Henry made no gesture of recognition, no raised hand or stiff nod. He watched, the beginnings of a twisted smirk forming at his lips as the girl quickened her pace to the street corner and vanished. The left side of his faint pink lip tugged upwards, creating a sinister smirk on his face as thoughts of future bruises to impart on the girl's unblemished skin filled his mind. Though really, it was Kaspbrak he wanted. Fucking little sissy boy acted all high and mighty, like he was goddamn better than half the people in Derry, and what _really_ pissed Bowers off was how coddled and well-cared for Eddie Kaspbrak was.

Henry scowled and brought his smoke to his lips, taking another long drag, not even noticing that his fingers were slightly shaking as he fought to hold it steady. The wrinkled toxic stick that would probably give him lung cancer one day had a slow, creeping stench. Within moments, its chemicals invaded everything. The smoke had this sort of entitlement.

The nicotine made him function. He used to be just fine without it, but now, if he didn't get his fix, he was a bundle of fucking nerves, all jittery and snappy and even more violent than even he knew what to do with himself. He would get headaches a lot, and his smokes, Marlboros, were the only thing that seemed to help ease the pounding in his skull.

When the pain came, his brain would make a million excuses to cave in, and he really only fucking needed one. He knew it was an addiction.

Everyone told him it was. But it was painful for Henry to give up the smoking. It's always there for him when nothing else fucking was, really.

It made his brain feel happy again if he was even capable of feeling such an emotion. And he felt so bad to let go since it was the one thing he could always depend on to improve his mood on a particularly bad day. Henry stifled a low growl as he realized Patrick had asked a question.

"What?" he barked, his gaze still fixated on the spot where Marsh and Kaspbrak had rounded the corner only moments ago. "You say something, Pat?" Henry furrowed his brow into a frown and twisted at his midriff, craning his neck, and swiveling back lazily to look at Patrick and Belch Huggins. Vic would have come, but he was busy.

The need for revenge was like a rat gnawing at his soul, relentless, unceasing, it could only be stopped by the cold steel of a rat trap, a trap he would devise himself. His need for revenge was like an abscess on the skin of the soul that could only be cured by the cruel sharp steel point of revenge. Festering like a septic wound, and the only effective antibiotic is cold hard revenge. Savage. Spiteful. A dish best served cold. Unforgiving. He would bare a grudge until he died or took revenge, whichever came first. Settling old scores. Brutal. Callous. Satisfying. Empty. Pointless. Excessive. Mean spirited. It appealed to his twisted and dark sense of humor.

Patrick scowled and reached over the backseat to swipe a smoke out of the open carton of cigarettes that rested in the cupholder up front. "I asked what you wanna do to 'em," he breathed, his breathing quickening and his green eyes lit up with a newfound intensity.

"We got the pricks dead to rights, let's catch up to the punks and grab em," piped up Belch nosily as he munched on some potato chips.

"You better not get any crumbs in between the goddamned seats," Henry warned threateningly, trying to block out the sound of crunching.

All three of them were bored. It had started out simple enough, a drive to get away from Henry's father. They'd been sitting here for thirty minutes, just parked, waiting for something—or _someone_ —more entertaining to arrive. And now, _two_ someone's had actually shown up.

Fires of fury and hatred were smoldering in the small, narrowed eyes as he weighed the pros and cons of the various and creative means available to him for exacting revenge on Edward Fucking Kaspbrak.

Belch Huggins spoke up from the backseat, his facial expression remaining impassive behind his sunglasses. "Take a look, Bowers, we caught up to em, take a look. Tits at two o' clock. Legs up to her arm pits." Belch turned his head as if looking for a different target, though they all knew they were after Kaspbrak. "Mmm. Wouldn't kick her out of bed, looks a bit high maintenance, though, if you know what I mean? She's just pretty packaging, but the Marsh bitch has a personality like a fuckin' pit viper." Belch turned back to his comic book he'd been reading in the back seat, but Henry was still staring at their pair of latest chosen victims, as if he were lost in full-fledged fantasy mode right now.

"I can put up with any personality for a couple days, Belch. And for that package, maybe a goddamned fortnight," Henry growled appreciatively. He felt his gaze linger and an almost uncomfortable heat spread between his legs as he thought of what Marsh looked like underneath that dress. Her breasts didn't appear to be silicone monsters, and at only seventeen, it's not like she could afford that kind of work anyways. They were small, perfectly shaped, and to Bowers' eye, cute.

They were in proportion to her small frame, just the way he liked his girls. He'd always been more of an ass man than going for the tits, but for the Marsh girl with the fiery red hair and an even worse temper, he'd put up with pretty much as much of her bullshit as was necessary, really.

Bowers growled, clamping another cigarette between his teeth, fumbling for his lighter.

"Who the fuck said anything about maintenance? You just tell all these cunts you'll call 'em back. Watch. I'll get her number, just you watch and learn," he grinned, feeling a surge of confidence soar through his bloodstream, making him feel… _alive_. "She always seems like she's boring as hell, man, but that ass…those tits. Her boobs are enough to make your eyes water and an ass that could hypnotize the goddamn Pope himself. Man, there isn't much I wouldn't do for those," Henry breathed, feeling his breathing and heart rate increase the longer his gaze settled on Marsh. "What I wouldn't do…"

His gaze drifted downward towards his knife that lay idle in the cup holder. He picked it up, shifting the small thing in his palms, weighing the knife in his hands. It was no heavier than a kitchen blade but would cut on first contact, even with minimum pressure. Its serrations were kind of like waves, but not random like you'd get when you used cheaper knives. This one would slide into someone's flesh smoothly, do max damage on the way out, just like the barbs of an old fishing hook.

At around six inches, he could easily keep it under his jacket. Not his only weapon, but a useful back up in case the bitch decided to mouth off.

For some reason, when he saw his reflection in the steel, his mind flicked to Marsh, at seeing her terrified face if he were to hold her throat hostage. Henry Bowers could see Beverly Marsh bleeding already and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. Somehow, it felt like it gave Henry pleasure, knowing that he could so easily end a life with something so cheap and mass produced. It would slice right through the material of her dress into her pristine, unmarked flesh, and if Bevvy didn't do all that Henry and his crew demanded of her, then he could fucking kill her.

And that was when Henry got an idea. A truly wonderful, horrible idea.

Bowers swiveled his head lazily to regard Belch and Patrick, who exchanged a quick smirk and nodded their approval. "Reckon she might put out after a couple of drinks, know what I mean? Let's go _chat_."

They'd been sitting here hoping to nail Kaspbrak. Bowers owed him for the other day. It just so happened to be an added bonus that Marsh was with him. "Kaspbrak's gonna get his, little brat. _And_ the bitch too. Stupid _whore_ thinks she talk back to me like she did the other day, that girl's got another thing comin'," he growled, and just flashes of her face danced in the forefront of his mind, that smug white perfect fucking smile that he wanted nothing more than to wipe off Marsh's features, but only before he cornered the vicious little bitch and asked her why she spent her time around a bunch of pathetic whining brats like _him_.

Henry felt the beginnings of a genuine smile creep onto his face as he turned the key in the ignition, switched the gear to 'drive' and sped around the corner to catch up, only slowing down enough so they evenly matched their pace with Kaspbrak and Marsh. Henry rolled down the window, relishing in the tiny gasp of surprise that Girly Boy gave off. Henry let out a low whistle, eyeballing Marsh's figure in her simple olive green dress, kind of liking how a fire ignited in her blue eyes.

She had a kind of fighting spirit; Bowers would give her that. He liked his girls who were willing to fight back, grow a goddamned backbone.

Though hers wasn't going to last very long.

"Hey, baby doll," he hollered, peering at Marsh's slender figure from over the rim of his black aviator sunglasses. "Where ya headed, honey?"

Henry watched with something akin to amusement in his black eyes as the Marsh bitch instinctively pulled Kaspbrak closer, as if she thought that was going to save the prissy little momma's boy from what he had planned. She scrunched her nose in that adorable little way and stuck her tongue out at Bowers.

"Far away from _you_ , asshole. You know you really should cut that fucking mullet, Bowers, it doesn't suit you at all, man. You must be a really confident guy if you think a girl's going to give you a blow job when you look like you just came from the fucking sewers. Your hair looks like a grease trap. You must have a horde of maggots living in that mullet of yours, don't you?" Beverly cocked her head to the side and regarded Bowers like he were some animal in an exotic zoo.

Bowers rolled his eyes, not at all phased by her little quip. Henry let his eyes slide over Beverly Marsh's body, adding up all her pluses and minuses like a complex mathematical equation. If she ranked high enough, he'd put her on his radar, he decided, line her up with all the other bitches in Derry he wanted to add to his list of conquests.

She was a nine. Bowers was a ten, and the only reason the Marsh whore wasn't a perfect ten was due to two things.

1.) her mouth, which she had a bad habit of mouthing off, and was gonna get her into trouble one of these days if she didn't learn to mind her place, and 2.) Her breasts. Though Bowers thought they were perfect, small, natural, not overly big, and fake, he knew the rest of his guys tended to go for girls with large tits, not liking girls with smaller breasts.

So, he docked her a point for those two traits. Henry watched, furrowing his thick brows into a frown as Beverly Marsh observed Bowers with the gaze of a stranger, that aloof judgement with no strings. From her spot where she stood, seemingly rooted to the edge of the sidewalk, she's already made an opinion of him, and Bowers could tell by the apprehensive look in her cobalt blue eyes that she hated him, which, in his mind, wasn't that fair.

Henry was just an average guy you would see on the street in their little cesspool that dared to call itself a town, where everyone knew everyone else. He had a decent number of guys he ran with, his crew, but once you got to know him, like really know him, who he was at his core, it was too fucking late for you. If Bowers and his crew ever got you alone, and you didn't have a car or bike or some means to get the hell away from them, you were as good as dead, no point in running away.

The torture would start as he would follow in the footsteps of Butch Bowers and lash out his belt, start whipping you with it, the cries of pain as the blood formed with each new lash and welt like music to his ears.

But you would never know when it ends. It was Henry Bowers' addiction. A psychopath. A fucking murderer and a psychotic torturer.

He knew all too well what he was. And his friends. All of them.

They'd never actually killed anyone, though. Even Bowers liked to think that he had limits, but the way that he felt right now, he wasn't so sure. He tried again. "Where ya goin', dollface? You're lookin' real cute today. You got a boyfriend I don't know about, Bevvy? Why don't you let us give you a ride?" Bowers crooned throatily, slipping his sunglasses off his head to better look the Marsh bitch in those blue eyes of hers.

"No thanks. Eddie and I can walk on our own, thanks. Besides, your car probably smells like ass, I'm not getting in that piece of shit, especially not with a crackhead like you at the wheel," Beverly responded coldly, her eyes narrowed, her hands on her hips as she jutted them out, flicking her red hair back over her shoulders, the trademark sign the Marsh bitch was angry with you. "Why don't you take this trash heap of a car and hurl it off a cliff? Go fuck off and bother someone else before I get _pissed_. You think this piece of shit impressed the girls in school, Bowers, this thing's a fucking joke," Beverly huffed in frustration and adjusted her bag to her other shoulder, one hand on the small of Eddie's back as she shoved him forward slightly, not violently, but hard enough to enforce her intended message to her friend.

_We gotta get the hell out of here, Kaspbrak_.

"Fuck you, I'll have you know this is the world's greatest off road vehicle, you—you heartless bitch!" Bowers roared, his temper flaring. He tapped the steering wheel with the pads of his fingers to make his point.

Beverly rolled his eyes. "This piss tank's getting on my last nerve." She glanced towards Eds, hoping the joke would have made him smile, but it didn't. One look over at Eddie was more than enough for her. His face now resembled white chalk, and what little color in his pallid, sickly appearance there had been to start was now completely, totally drained. Beads of sweat had started to form on his brow.

Beverly swallowed as she set her face to casual indifference, showing Bowers and Huggins and Patrick she wasn't afraid to turn her back.

"Get the fuck back here, you stupid fucking bitch!" growled Henry, and Beverly let out a tiny squeak of fear as the squeal of tires rang in her eardrums and the next thing she knew, Bowers had driven the car up on the sidewalk next to her. "I offer you a free ride outta the kindness of my heart, I try to be nice to you goddamn pricks, and you fuckin' turn your back on me an' walk away? I don't think so, you stupid fucking whore."

Beverly felt Eddie tense and stiffen beside her as she felt Eddie instinctively move closer towards her. She felt a surge of pride swell in her chest as she realized that her friend trusted her enough to protect him. The young woman inhaled a sharp breath of air that pained her lungs as she heard the car doors of Henry Bowers' car slam shut as the car was put in park, and Henry, Belch Huggins, and Patrick Hockstetter all strode towards them.

Eddie took a couple of fumbling steps backward, his breathing hitched. Beverly flung out an arm in front of Eddie protectively. Beverly turned her head sharply to the left as Bowers closed off the gap of space between the two of them, his smoke still clamped in between his teeth and scrunched her nose in disgust as he blew a cloud ring of smoke right in her face.

"Do I need to say it a second time?" Bowers growled; his black eyes fixated on Beverly. He stifled a low growl in the back of his throat as one of his hands came down to grasp at her delicate, birdlike wrist. He caught sight of a pink scar near her wrist and snorted. So, she was one of _those_.

When Beverly did not respond, he grew even angrier, and his grip on her wrist tightened, hard enough for him to break it if he was a mind to.

"I really _hate_ saying it a second time. I ain't askin' you, Marsh. Get in my goddamned car. You too, Girly Boy. You're both in for the hurt train. You an' me, all of us are gonna go for a little bit of a _drive_."

Beverly stomped her foot and kicked at a pebble with the edge of her open-toed sandal. Bowers glanced down and was momentarily surprised by how delicate her feet were. She took good care of him, and for just a brief moment, Henry was briefly tempted to bring his sneaker down on her fucking delicate foot, break every goddamn bone in her right foot.

_See how much this bitch mouths off then. She won't be walking away from me then_ , his inner conscience advised. _Tired of this bitch talkin' back_. Eddie Kaspbrak's meek and timid voice jolted him out of his thoughts. "G-guys, just go, 'kay? W—we don't want any trouble. Beverly, c'mon let's go. _Now_." Eddie pleaded from behind, one of his hands gently tugging on the sleeves of Beverly's dress, trying desperately and in vain to pull his friend away from Henry. "We're gonna be late."

"The bell rang ten minutes ago, Eds," Beverly sighed, sounding defeated, though it didn't stop her from rolling her eyes at Bowers' desperation. "No point in going now. We've missed it, and Mrs. Vanderhilt will mark us absent. Besides, it's the last day of _class_. Not like they were going to have us do anything beside watch movies or something, Eds."

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her small black bag, which rested idly on the side of her hip, given the strap was slung across her bag like a crossbody. She had a cheap little flip phone. Not much to boast of, but Daddy had given it to her in the event of an emergency.

Not that she cherished the idea of facing Daddy's anger for a _second_ time today, but if there was ever a time where this counted as an emergency, this was it. She swallowed hard past the lump forming in her throat, and her fingers hovered over the main compartment, waiting.

Bowers scowled, pursing his lips into a thin line, his dark beady eyes drifting downwards, seeing where her hand was positioned. "Nuh uh," he growled, his strong hand coming up to grip her wrist. "I don't think so, sweetheart." She let out a tiny squeak of fear as her bag was pulled unceremoniously over her head as Bowers tossed her back to Belch. "Don't want you gettin' any ideas, now, do we, sweetheart? Didn't think so," he growled, without even waiting for Beverly to respond to him.

"Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing, asshole? Give it back, you bunch of cocksuckers!" Bev bellowed, stomping her foot, a release of frustration. "If you don't, my dad's gonna be pissed and he'll _kill_ you!"

He really would, too. He'd given it to her as a birthday gift this year. Also, another thing not much to boast of, but it had served Bev so far, acting as a sort of utilitarian purse and held way more stuff than it looked like it could. Plus since it wasn't very flashy or fashionable, it didn't much make her a target for thieves and pickpockets, and if Daddy found out she had lost it or allowed this punk to steal it without trying to put up a fight, there'd be seven shades of holy hell to pay when she got home.

Beverly glanced sideways at Eddie, who was staring deep into her eyes, fearful but determined not to look away first. He seemed certain that she knew he was trying to hide just how fucking terrified he was of Henry and his friends, but still, Eddie was determined to fool Beverly.

Eddie contorted his lips into an awkward, toothy half-smile, but his cheeks weren't so compliant and compromising. He could feel their reluctance to be molded falsely like this. When Bev finally averted her gaze and returned her attentions towards the big problem at hand, Henry, his smile fell lifeless, allowing his face to resume its fearful expression.

He let out a pained gasp as Henry's dark gaze drifted towards Eddie and smirked, though the smile did not match his cold, dark, black, soulless eyes. "You and the other fucking Loser's all bitch to us about how mean we are to you, Eddie Spaghetti," he teased, though he made no move to step away from Beverly, his grip still ironclad and tight around her wrist. "We offer to give you a ride, now you're gonna tag along with all of us whether you like it or not. Let's go for a car ride."

" _No_." Beverly's voice was steady, firm. "We're not going with you."

"Oh, yes, you are, dollface. _Especially_ _you_ ," Henry throatily crooned, reaching up his free hand, where it drifted to the back of his skull and absentmindedly lifted a strand of her red hair and toyed with it. "You an' me…gonna have us a little sit down and chat, I think, sweetheart."

Beverly winced as she felt Bowers' grip on her wrist tighten, and she could have sworn she heard a goddamned bone pop. Not break, but she knew his hand was definitely going to leave bruises and marks she didn't want. Henry Bowers was a ticking time bomb. Always. No matter what.

Any provocation, no matter how small or insignificant, his temper would blow, especially if he were around the other Loser's, particularly Eddie. For some reason, Henry Bowers hated poor Eddie the very most.

Even Bev didn't know why that was or what his reasons behind it were. Eddie was the more mellow of the group and tried his hardest to stay out of everyone's way. If anything, she figured Bowers and his crew would have gone for Trashmouth, since Richie never knew when to flick the switch and turn his mouth off. But that hadn't been the case. Beverly visibly flinched as Bowers other hand drifted away from the back of her head and came down to rest almost gingerly at her waist. She almost—almost—would have preferred it if he'd just slapped her already.

Anything but this. His violence Bev could handle, she was used to dealing with it from her dad, but this sudden spark of tenderness wasn't at all like Bowers, and she wasn't quite sure what to think of the new behavior. She let out a pained gasp of surprise as she felt his strong hand cup her chin firmly in his hand and tilt her head upward, forcing Bev to meet his gaze. "You're comin' with us, bitch, like it or not. Take them."

It wasn't a request, and Bev's heart gave a lurch as Bowers gripped onto her arm and dragged her towards his car, Patrick had gotten hold of Eddie's arms and violently wrenched them behind his back, shoving them forward. She could hear Eddie's breathing begin to increase. "Oh, fuck."

He was starting to have an asthma attack, and if she couldn't calm him down, they were both going to be in trouble, but especially poor Eddie.

"It's gonna be okay, Eddie," she whispered in what she hoped was a soothing voice, flinching as Bowers wrenched open the back of his car door and shoved Bev towards the other side of the passenger seat. She drew in a shaking breath and exhaled through her nose, willing herself to calm down. She needed to be _calm_. "We're gonna get out of this."

"Bev…" he whispered hoarsely. "I—I can't fucking breathe…"

"Just—just stay calm, okay? Can you breathe? I need you to breathe, nice and slow," she urged desperately, casting a pleading glance towards Henry. "Please," she begged, hating how weak she sounded, and she hated the fact that she was beginning Henry Bowers for something she knew he wouldn't allow. "He—he can't breathe. He needs his inhaler."

When he didn't respond, she turned back to Eddie, who was panicking. Beverly knew that for him it felt like his lungs weren't even in his body anymore as he tried to bring air in. How his muscles strained, and she could almost see the thoughts in his head turning from fear to dizzy confusion.

She rummaged in the pockets of his red hoodie and grasped with fumbling, shaking fingers for his inhaler, putting it to his shaking lips. "Breathe, goddamn it, Eds, don't fucking die on me," she pleaded desperately, biting her bottom lip in a slight pout. "Nice and slow, in and out, deep breaths, just like Richie and me taught you, remember, Eds?"

Henry threw back his head and laughed, rolling his eyes. "Boy can't breathe? An' you gotta fucking _remind_ him how? What a sick joke…"

There were several angry comebacks that came to Bev's mind in that moment as she shot Bowers a withering look, but she bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood and fell silent, choosing to focus on Eddie. He needed her more than Bowers needed to be told off right now.

_Be strong_ , her mind advised. _For him_. _You stay calm, you might get out of this alive. But they've never fucking kidnapped us before_!

And that was all it took for her panicked stream of unhelpful thoughts to start coursing through her mind. The wild thoughts of whatever Bowers and Patrick and Belch had planned in mind for the two of them began to accelerate inside her head. Bev wanted them to slow so she could breathe, but they wouldn't fucking quit it. Her breaths came in short gasps of air, and she felt like she was going to black out right now.

Beverly breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging as she collapsed back against the headrest of the backseat of Bowers' car as Eddie's breathing became less gasping and raspy and started to return to normal.

"Oh, thank fuck," she whispered. "Amen, hallelujah and peanut butter. Don't' scare me like that again, Eddie," she pleaded, lowering her voice so that only Kaspbrak could hear her. She felt like crying in relief when Eddie returned her nod, silently communicating he'd heard her.

Her heart was hammering inside her chest like it belonged to a rabbit running for its skin, and the dog that was the predator was Henry Bowers. She felt Eddie practically fall on top of her lap as Patrick violently shoved the smaller teen in the backseat, shoving him until their shoulders touched, so he could scoot over and still sit in the backseat with them.

The atmosphere in the car felt like it was spinning, and she clenched her eyes shut, trying to make her panicked thoughts slow to something her mind could cope with, but they wouldn't. Oooh, she felt so _sick_. Her stomach lurched as the acidic bile coated the back of her throat and a muscle in her jaw twitched as she fought it down.

Henry glowered at her as he slid effortlessly into the driver's seat. "You throw up in my goddamn car and you're gonna clean it up, bitch. Or maybe I'll just make you eat it," he snarled meanly, slipping on his sunglasses. Bowers glanced at Beverly from the review mirror and Bev swallowed, not wanting to meet his listless gaze but unable to pull away first, either. She couldn't let him see how much he was getting to her.

She had to be strong. If not for herself, then for Eddie. The cold look reflected on Henry Bowers' face gave Beverly the chills. Bowers' hands were curled into tight fist around the steering wheel as he put the car into drive and drove off in the complete opposite direction Bev and Eddie had been heading, away from the high school.

Fuck. This was _so_ not good.

Henry Bowers was a guy who seemed to have no sense of humanity, and he certainly had a heart of fucking stone, considering he just kidnapped the two of them and was taking them to an undisclosed location, to do what with them, only God knew for sure, and Bev decided she didn't _want_ to know whatever it was Henry had planned. His cold gaze locked with hers, and Beverly flinched, drawing in a breath, and holding it, her hands resting meekly in her lap as she was sandwiched in between Eddie and Patrick, Belch riding shotgun up front.

Patrick had an ironclad grip on the strap of her bag, rummaging through it, so there was no way she was going to be able to get hold of her phone to call for help.

Bev knew she'd never forget that evil glint in Bowers' beady eyes. How Henry Bowers had smelled of blood. Of danger. And how if she and Eddie couldn't think of some way to get out of this mess, then they were well and truly fucked, completely at Henry Bowers' mercy.

"Fuck," she whispered through gritted teeth, her jaw locking.

No one was going to save them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The kidnapping of Beverly Marsh and Eddie Kaspbrak was over in a second. One minute the two friends had been walking along the sidewalk, talking about nothing in particular as they headed to the high school, and then the next, both of them were gone.

No one saw a thing as Henry, Belch, and Patrick loaded the two into the backseat of Henry's car. No one heard a thing, not Eddie's muffled cries for help or Bev's mouth as she shot off pretty much every cuss word in her vocabulary she knew, courtesy of growing up around her old man who'd sound off anytime he got pissed, which was more often than not with Alvin Marsh.

"Tie the bitch up real good, Pat, with these. Tie up Girly Boy too, don't want 'em taking any chances thinking they can fuckin' run for it now, do we?" instructed Henry Bowers, a low warning growl to his face as he tossed something blue and plastic in the backseat, without giving Beverly a chance to respond. He caught Beverly's gaze in the rear view mirror and smirked as he watched the young redhead's face drain of what little color had been left in her already pale face to begin with, grinning.

"Let go of me!" Eddie whined, letting out a small, shaking cry as Patrick grabbed his wrist and bound them together with a pair of zip ties, doing the same thing to Beverly before she could so much as call him a cocksucker again. "Let us go, we h—haven't done anything wrong!"

Eddie felt himself blink back briny tears as he squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to show just how fucking terrified he actually was to their captors and doing a really horrible job of it too, because they came anyway. Poor Eddie drew in a sharp breath that pained his lungs, which already felt like they couldn't get enough fucking air into his system and tried to stay calm. He could feel the sweat drench his skin, the throbbing of his own eyes, the ringing screams vibrating in his ears, and the pounding of his heart against his chest. "Hey, what—STOP THAT!"

Patrick had gingerly placed a hand on Eddie's thigh, his fingers curling into a tight vice grip around his legs. "Just makin' sure you're not going anywhere, Momma's Boy," Patrick Hockstedder growled, his voice escaping him as more of a low growl, which sounded weird coming from Patrick, since his voice was more nasally than Bowers' or Belch's was.

Beverly's face blanched as she watched Eddie struggle against Patrick's clutches. "What the fuck, Bowers? It's not enough you pick on us pretty much every fucking week, you're into kidnapping now, too? Is there any fucking _limit_ to how _sick_ you guys can get? And Hockstedder over here is acting like he's never seen a pair of tits before, you might wanna take your friend to a fucking strip club so he can scratch this goddamn itch, don't you think?" bellowed Beverly, her gaze drawn towards Patrick and Eddie, fighting against her restraints, straining against the zip ties, blood running over the translucent plastic, crimson garish red on pristine white.

Her eyes strained for some sign of what was to come, swallowing past the lump in her throat, hoping her eyes didn't betray just how nervous and skittish she was actually becoming. Surely, someone was going to be looking for them since by now classes had been well in session for over an hour. Richie and Ben and the other Losers would have noticed their absence, right? Especially Eddie's.

He was a stickler about class attendance and never missed unless he was genuinely sick or if his mom was having another nervous breakdown.

If they were lucky, the other Losers would alert someone at the school's office, and then their parents would probably be called. "Daddy…Daddy said he would call the cops…" It was a long shot, but it might be their best chance at walking away from this.

"Huh?" Henry's voice barked from up front. "You say something, honey tits?"

Beverly seethed at the name-calling, a muscle in her jaw twitching, but she swallowed hard and forced her voice to remain calm though she could do nothing about how badly her hands were shaking in her lap. "If you let us go right now, Bowers, I swear to God, I won't call the cops," she promised, hating the warbling little crack in her voice, and how she was seemingly unable to look Henry Bowers in the eyes.

"No. You won't," Henry coldly agreed, and Beverly repressed a shudder at how flat and listless his voice sounded. "You're gonna tag along with us, Marsh. Kaspbrak. We're gonna play a little game, I think."

"G—game?" stammered Eddie, not even bothering to put on a false front of bravery anymore, not even for Beverly's sake. It was time he faced that facts, that she was the bravest besides Bill out of all of them.

Not him. Eddie swallowed hard and tried to ignore Patrick's hand which was still resting on his leg, way too long for his comfort.

"Get your fucking hand off Eddie's leg right now, Hockstedder, before I jam it straight up your _ass_ ," hissed Beverly through clenched teeth.

Patrick snorted. "I'd love to see you fuckin' try, whore."

Henry, for whatever good it was worth, ignored the exchange.

"I'm gonna show you two assholes what the fuck happens when you cross me," Henry retorted cheerfully, false happiness dripping from his voice like poison. "We're gonna take us a little drive to my house…"

Eddie drew in a sharp gasp that pained his lungs. "Oh shit, oh, god, oh fuck, I—I don't like this, Bev, I—I can't breathe a-and I'm having a fucking asthma attack!" he shouted, his voice raising an octave like it always tended to do whenever Eddie was on the verge of a panic attack.

Bev stuck out her bottom lip in a slight pout, her gaze flitting from Eddie and Patrick, constantly trying to make sure Hockstedder didn't do anything that was going to traumatize Eddie further than he already had.

Patrick scared her more than Henry Bowers did, which was saying something. Bev drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as she watched Henry's friend in the backseat next to her casually ran the pads of his fingers up Eddie's thigh and drift towards the younger man's collarbones.

"Stop this shit!" screamed Beverly as she heard Eddie's breaths quickening and she knew he was bordering on the verge of having another asthma attack, and Eddie could only have so much of his medication at one time or he'd get dizzy and it would do way more harm than good. "It's fucking sick, Patrick! Bowers, I'm telling you right now, you turn your car around and drop us off anywhere, I don't care where, we'll back and we won't tell anybody what you tried to do to us, Bowers. I wasn't lying to you when I told you that my dad would call the cops if I'm not home by six o' clock tonight. I swear that he will, and I'll tell. You don't know what my dad is like. He'll report me missing, Bowers."

Eddie's gaze nervously flitted down towards Patrick's hand, which was still casually grazing the area around his neck. He swallowed, feeling his Adam's apple throb and pulsate against his will. "M-my mom will too," he breathed, forcing himself to exhale slowly through his nostrils.

At Eddie's desperate attempt to chime in and help Beverly's bluff, and at that they both knew that as long as Patrick or Belch held onto Beverly's little black messenger bag she always kept on her person and kept an eye on her cheap little flip cell phone, making sure she couldn't have access to it, she wouldn't call be calling any goddamn body for help. Not her daddy, not their friends…They wouldn't break it or anything, those things cost a lot of money, but the Marsh bitch wasn't calling for help.

Not if Bowers had his say, and he always got what he wanted, in the end. The thought of Sonia Kaspbrak actually being taken serious by Derry's local precinct was a joke in it of itself. Bowers knew it, Eddie knew it, and Bev knew it too. Pretty much nobody in town took Mrs. Kaspbrak seriously, and especially not the police after so many false 911 calls thinking that her precious Eddie Bear baby boy was dying.

"You fuckin' _serious_ , Kaspbrak?" Henry laughed, his voice harsh and grating as his laughter escaped him, sounding more of a bark like a dog's than anything else. "Your mom's an overbearing bitch who lies and fuckin' loves the attention she gets out of what she does to you. She's not gonna be taken seriously, Eddie Spaghetti, an' you and I both know that. Besides…we're aren't gonna kill you. _Yet_. We just wanna have a little fun. We're gonna show you my house, I think," Bowers taunted cruelly.

Even as Henry said the words, Beverly could feel her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. Eddie cringed and drew in a pained gasp as he realized that Bowers was right. By God, the bastard was fucking right about her.

Eddie furrowed his brows into a frown, exhaling a relieved breath though the tension in his shoulders did not leave his body as he felt Patrick Hockstedder finally withdraw his hands from around his collarbone. Pat was the one who creeped him out the most, if he was being honest with himself, and just one glance over at Beverly confirmed that she felt the same way. At least they knew where they stood with Henry, but Patrick…. Bev couldn't figure out Hockstedder if her life depended on it, and right now, she knew that their lives did in fact, depend on that happening, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to do it.

He was quiet, tall, gangly, and lean, sallow, sunken in cheekbones, and a mop of thick black hair that needed a cut a long time ago hung like curtains in front of his face and looked greasy.

 _Like you don't know what a shower is_ , Eddie thought, disgusted, crinkling his nose in disgust and gagged a little at the number of germs that had to be crawling all over Hockstedder and all the other guys.

Eddie didn't know what the hell Bowers and the guys had planned for him and Beverly but knew that they could _not_ let themselves get dragged into Henry's house. If they let that happen, there was no guarantee that Henry and his goons would just let them walk away, even if they swore not to tell anyone or call the cops. Eddie swallowed, blinking back tears.

Henry was probably going to kill him and Bev.

What the hell was to stop them from killing them and disposing of their bodies, dumping them off in the woods somewhere, or letting the quarry and the canal just wash away their corpses? And then, IT would feast again on their flesh and probably wouldn't even leave the bones.

 _Nothing for the cops to find. We'll just be more missing kids._ Eddie flinched and shuddered how he remembered the clown telling them all in the sewers five years ago almost to the day, that he would let them all go, live happy fruitful lives…if only they let him have Bill. The Loser's had refused, of course, and put up one hell of a fight. What about Butch?

At the thought of Bowers' dad, a local cop on the police force, which total employed maybe a dozen full-time men on the town's payroll, Eddie wondered if there was a chance that Henry's dad would cover up the crime. He wasn't sure what their relationship was like, but Butch Bowers was one tough son of a bitch and didn't go easy on criminals, but…

 _Henry's his son_ , he thought wildly, biting his bottom lip hard enough to crack and bleed. _What's to stop him from helping to keep him going to jail even if we could get out of this and tell? Fucking nothing, that's what!_

Bev shifted in her seat, her leg accidentally brushing the side of Patrick's thigh, who turned his attentions towards her. She flinched as he brushed back a lock of her red hair that had fallen in front of her face like a curtain. _Fucking prick_ , she thought angrily, jaw rooted in anger. If she was being honest, Patrick scared her more than Bowers did. At least with Henry, you could tell where you stood and judging by his temper, what you'd be able to get away with, but Patrick…

Patrick was a whole different ball game entirely. He was always so quiet, his face that perfected look of impassive indifference, and you could never quite tell what the guy was thinking, and Beverly always liked to be able to look a person in the eyes and tell what was weighing on their mind.

She didn't get that whenever she looked at Hockstedder. When she did look into the guy's eyes, just like Bowers, it was like there was nothing there, and often times, the only announcement of his arrival was a slight drop in the air temperature and the descent of absolute eerie silence.

"We made it," Henry spoke up in an excited voice from the front seat, pulling the car into the Bowers' driveway. "Grab Kaspbrak. _I'll_ get Marsh," Bowers breathed, putting the car into park, and getting out of the car, slamming the door as hard as he possibly could. Bev let out a shaking breath and let out a tiny squeak of surprise and winced as Bowers grabbed her by her forearm and wrenched her violently to her feet.

His other hand rested way too long on her waist, just above the knot of her dress at the hemline, way longer than Beverly would have liked.

Though she knew shouting at him wasn't going to prompt him to remove it, so she chose silence as a response. She needed to stay _calm_.

She could feel the point of something sharp, the cold metal poking her through her dress, and she could tell that Bowers was holding a knife to her back, his insurance in case she tried anything funny by escaping.

"Please don't do this, Bowers," she begged, biting her bottom lip in a pout. If it was begging he wanted that would get them out of this alive and unharmed, then she'd do whatever the hell he wanted of her for it.

Watching Patrick and Bowers work their magic and Hockstedder drag Eddie forward, ignoring Eddie's pitiful cries for him to stop, it was hard to believe all of them were even the same species. "Let go of him, Patrick! You're hurting him! Let him go!" she screamed and let out a startled gasp of pain as she felt Henry's hand backhand her across the cheek. She staggered backwards and would have tripped on the hem of her dress had Henry not been maintaining a firm grip on her forearm.

"Shut the fuck up, Molly Ringwald," snarled Henry, his black eyes narrowing, his hand still curled into a fist, raised at her threateningly. "You make _one_ _more_ _sound_ , you let my dad know you an' Kaspbrak are here, and I'll snap your goddamn neck and throw your body in the quarry to drown. See if I'm fuckin' joking," he hissed, leaning forward, still not relinquishing his grip upon her bound wrists. "Try me."

Bev let out a whimper as the tip of Bowers' nose touched hers. She winced as Henry's mouth turned upwards in a vicious sneer. "Thought not, slut," he growled, yanking her forward. "You ain't got the guts, Marsh, to take me on all by yourself. Not without your little gay faggot friends here to protect you," he laughed, yanking her forward by her wrists, which were still bound by the blue plastic zip ties Henry had just happened to have laying around in his car, though Bev wasn't fooled.

"You've been planning this," she breathed, looking to Eddie to make sure he was okay. His face was clammy, and his eyes kept daring wildly around the driveway as Bowers and Belch and Hockstedder marched the pair up the walkway path and back towards the back of Henry's house.

Henry didn't respond and instead barked out and order to Patrick and Belch. "Take 'em round the back towards the basement. My dad won't be home for a while, an' the last thing he needs is to find these two assholes in our house when he gets home," Henry snapped coldly.

"Oh, shit, oh god, oh fuck," breathed Eddie, struggling against Patrick's vice grip on his arms, who had the younger teen's arms behind his back in a vice grip. "L—let us go!" he pleaded pitifully. "Please, guys!"

"Aww, what's the matter, Momma's Boy?" taunted Pat meanly, his hand that wasn't currently maintaining his grip on Eddie's arms to prevent the younger, leaner boy from escaping came up to play with a strand of Eddie's hair, almost tenderly so. Beverly heard Eddie let out a squeak.

Beverly let out a pained gasp as Henry's response was a violent yank forward with the rope he'd attached to her wrists in addition to the zip ties. She let out a hiss of pain and glanced down at her wrists, which were turning red and starting to bleed a little bit from the friction of the harsh frayed material of the ropes and from straining against her zip ties. "Shit."

Her arms and wrists ached. No matter how she moved them, suddenly they felt impossibly numb. Bowers could fucking cut them off for all she cared, and she wouldn't feel a thing. "Bev?" Eddie's panicked voice interrupted her thoughts as he drew in a sharp breath as his gaze lingered on the cellar door at the back of the Bowers' house, to the basement.

"It's gonna be okay, Eds," Beverly called out, hoping her voice sounded reassuring enough, though she was having trouble believing her own words. This was a new level of cruelty for Bowers and his crew. They'd never kidnapped one of them before, let alone taken them somewhere.

She jerked back as Henry and Patrick dragged her and Eddie towards the basement door. If only these goddamned things would break. Beverly swallowed hard, almost unable to stand the done-dry feeling in her mouth, how it ached whenever she tried swallowing past the lump forming in her throat.

Bev stood on her tiptoes, temporarily relieving the pressure on her wrists from the zip ties, right at the exact moment Bowers decided to shove her violently forward, and she would have tripped if not for Henry. "Get your grubby hands off of me, Frankenstein!" she yelled.

"Not very nice," Bowers scowled, his lip sticking out in a pretend hurtful pout. "And after I just saved your pretty little ankle from getting twisted, an' this is the thanks I get? You could at least put out for me a little and give me a kiss, bitch. Nuh-huh," he growled, his arm shooting out and caught her by her shoulder as Beverly tried to bolt. "Where ya going, baby doll?" Henry crooned, shooting out an arm to catch her. "You just got here. Stay. Play with us for a while, have some fun with some _real_ men for a change. That would have been one…nasty fall, wouldn't it, Bevvy?"

Beverly clenched her eyes shut as she felt Henry's hand drift to her waist and close off the gap of space between them, his other free hand fumbling with the latch onto the cellar door, flinging it wide open.

"S—stop it!" Eddie shouted, his dark eyes wide and fearful as Patrick and Bowers dragged them down the dark stairwell of Bowers' basement.

The basement was the only salvageable thing about Henry's house. Constructed from quarry rock, its walls looked thicker than one of those old European medieval castles, but the house on top of the foundation was just wood. It was a warren of small rooms with only one way in or out. Beverly swallowed hard. Somehow, she and Eddie would get out.

Close to the low ceiling, just under the rotting beams that suspend the floor above are windows, long and skinny, mostly covered in soil that lightened the darkness. The basement was more of a bunker, all concrete and no personality.

Near the ceiling were long low windows, no wider than the slits in a castle turret but lying on their sides. Without any circulation of air, the stagnant aroma made it dungeonesque and the unsoftened echo of Beverly's feet as she was forced to allow Bowers and his crew to lead her and Eddie into Bowers' basement, brought on a claustrophobic feeling. She let out a squeak and almost fell on top of Eddie as Bowers and Hockstedder shoved the pair to the cement floor.

Eddie breathed in a sharp pained gasp and forced himself to try to relax, though he knew it was useless to fight against the tensing and shaking of his limbs. Looking up from the corner of the room, where Eddie had scrambled to, his knees up against his chest, as if he thought that was going to be enough to save him from whatever Patrick was about to do to him, he tried to steady himself enough to comprehend what was going on around him and if there was another way out of Henry's dad's basement other than the pair of stairs that they'd just been led down.

"Tie their feet too," Bowers barked to Huggins, who looked around the room until he spotted a roll of thick duct tape laying idle on a crate.

"No, no, stop this! Please!" Bev begged, blinking back briny tears. "Look, whatever the fuck this is about, take me, b—but let Eds go!"

Henry laughed and crouched down so he was eye level with Beverly. She clenched her eyes shut and turned her head sharply to the left as he reached up a strong hand and toyed with a lock of her fiery red hair.

"No, I don't think so, doll. You're both gonna hang out with us for a little while. And my dad won't be home for another few hours, so I got all the time in the world. Just think, we can do whatever we want to you, an' nobody's gonna hear your fucking pitiful cries for help," he growled.

Shaking his head, Eddie let out a pained whimper and shook his head.

"Wh—what are you guys gonna do to us? Please just let us go…" He could feel himself trembling and he shrunk into his hoodie for both warmth and protection. His breaths were so fucking ragged and weak.

He could feel himself starting to get dizzy, and now that Belch had put a pair of zip ties on his hands, he couldn't get to his inhaler very easily.

Bowers merely smirked in response as Patrick knelt at Eddie's level and rubbed the skin of his palm softly on Eddie's shoulder, drifting to his collarbone, going slightly underneath the neckline of Eddie's t-shirt.

Neither Henry nor any of his friends responded to Eddie's question, and that only fueled his anxiety even further, allowing a muscle to twitch involuntarily at the corner of Eddie's right eye, his mouth forming a rigid grimace. He clutched himself as best as he could since it was fucking freezing in Bower's dad's basement. He let out a pained gasp as he felt Patrick's hand squeeze tightly onto his shoulder, hard enough to bruise, and he knew that it probably would if he kept it up. "Let go!" he breathed, violently shirking away from the taller and older teen's grasp.

He breathed out a shaking breath as Bowers barked an order to Pat to let him be for now, and Eddie felt his shoulders sag in relief, and a tear escaped down his cheek before he could blink it back. Fuck. Now Henry and his friends would even more of a reason to pick on him. For being afraid and weak. One glance over at Beverly was more than enough.

 _She_ wasn't crying. Eddie tried to focus on his breathing, but the anxiety bubbled inside his rib cage, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

His chest felt hollow, and then all at once, it was filled with a horrible buzzing sound that wouldn't let up. His facial muscles felt numb and he knew he was crying, but why the fuck was he crying? He—he couldn't!

Eddie let out a scream as Henry raised his hand and backhanded him across the cheek, ignoring Beverly's screams and her cussing to stop it.

"Shut the fuck up," he growled, turning the worst of his wrath back to Beverly, striding over to where she cowered in the other corner of the room, a few feet away from Eddie, and kneeling at her eye level, so he could look the bitch square in the eyes and see the fear in her blue eyes. "I swear to fuckin' God, my dad comes home an' finds out about this, then I'm gonna have no choice but to cut you up into little fuckin' pieces and throw your body parts in the goddamned river. Food for the fishes."

Beverly swallowed hard as she nodded mutely, her eyes fixed on Henry's cold black eyes and seeing nothing in them but fierce hatred.

Once again, her fear found her. It spoke to her in its cackling voice that sounded way too much like fucking Pennywise the Dancing Clown for her to be happy with whatever the hell was happening to her and Eddie.

It told her legs to go weak, her stomach to lurch and her heart to ache.

Back when her mom had still been alive, she'd told Beverly once when she was maybe four or five years old that there was nothing to fear but fear itself, but she still could not silence its voice as she looked at Henry.

Now that he had them right where he wanted them, both Beverly and Eddie knew they truth. They were in a world of hurt and in deep shit.

No one was coming to help them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Henry Bowers stared down at his pair of newest captors, feeling a sense of exhilaration course through his bloodstream in an intensity he'd never felt before. They'd actually done it, kidnapped Kaspbrak and Bev Marsh.

After all his preparations, he felt like he'd earned his treat already, like a kid in a candy store. The kidnapping of these two Losers had been a cinch. He'd been watching Kaspbrak for months, he knew his routines, where he lived, and where on the sidewalk of his neighborhood he always stopped to pet one of his neighbor's stupid fucking smelly cats.

He briefly wondered what kind of freak out the kid's overbearing bitch of a mom was going to say or do once Mrs. Kaspbrak realized Eddie was missing. He could almost imagine it now, her sitting at breakfast, eating toast dunked in milk. The fat bitch would reach out for her milk carton to fill her cup, except this time, her son's face was on the side of the carton. She'd no doubt freak the hell out and go straight to the cops.

Henry wondered if his dad who was a part of the Derry police force would be the one to wind up taking Eddie's mom's claim, having to calm her down from a fucking panic attack, all the while brushing her off.

The cops would then brush of Mrs. Kaspbrak and tell her to get out of their station, go bother someone else. She'd cried wolf in regards to her son way too many times, and no one in town save for Mr. Keene who ran the local pharmacy took her seriously anymore. His mom was a joke.

"Cops aren't gonna help you here," Henry growled, standing up straighter and towering over both Eddie Kaspbrak and Beverly Marsh, both of whom were huddled together in the corner, silent and afraid.

The missing kids were something of a trend in Derry lately. Had been that way for the last couple of years. Henry figured it was probably gangs.

Gangs or gross perverted sex fiends with nothing better to do snatched up kids off the streets to 'play' with them, kind of like what he was doing now. After a few days, the gangs would park whatever was left near the barrens or the sewers. That's where most of the body parts wound up.

The parents cried outrage, and those of them that turned to the police for help were met with silence. All the cops could do was pin up more missing kids posters, but with usually no trace of the kids' disappearance, the cases—dozens, hundreds of them by now—usually went cold and dark. Henry towered, looming over Kaspbrak, more so than Beverly.

Rumors flew through the streets of Derry, especially among the high school where Kaspbrak and Marsh and the rest of those fucking pathetic whiny Losers went to school that a fucking clown of all things had been spotted wading in the storm drain ditch once, near the sewers. Near the old run-down Neibolt House. A clown with the horrible white face paint makeup, bright red lips, garish that looked more like blood than lipstick, and bright red and orange tufts of hair on his head an ivory white jumpsuit with lapels and big orange pom poms on the clown's suit.

Henry hadn't seen one sight of any such jackass running around in a ridiculous monkey clown suit that no doubt made him look like a faggot like what the Losers and a couple others had described, so he knew Eddie and the others were lying, that it was all a bunch of bullshit, just another way to get the attention they so desperately carved. Well, Henry and Pat would give it to them.

He'd caught whispers from some of the other kids in the Loser's gang that the clown was supposed to live in the Neibolt House.

"Maybe we'll take us a little drive there later, check it out for ourselves," he said, not realizing he had spoken it out loud to himself until Patrick and Beverly shot him curious glances. Bev's more so out of fear than anything else, and Pat of confusion. At the thought of that house, Henry smiled. Maybe later if he were feeling up to it, he could take Eddie Spaghetti and The Slut for a little drive to that haunted house.

Henry had never taken them on a field trip before. Even having them in his dad's basement was something of a first. But still, the idea of maybe another little car ride to the Neibolt House resonated in Henry's mind.

The Neibolt House was old and looked almost like every other house in the neighborhood, close to where Eddie lived. He had to walk past it every day to get to his house from the school. The front lawn's weeds grew past his gangly, knobby knees. If there was ever a path, it was gone, buried underneath the grass and the weeds. The blue door had that sun-bleached look and the window frames were more bare rotting wood than paint.

Every time Eddie passed by the place, he could swear he heard IT's laughter within the walls, and how it seemed like the Neibolt House had become almost…aware of itself, of the horrible history within its walls. How the crumbling walls were nothing more than some ghostly shadow of some previous existence. The place was nothing more than IT's home now. The Neibolt House belonged to him now. Eddie stayed well the fuck away from that house, so did the other Loser's, though Bill had once made an off-hand suggestion about trying to go back to kill IT for good.

That was a house Eddie knew he never wanted to set foot in again, making him even hesitant to walk past it every day on the way home from school. The cops couldn't pin the crimes on a single suspect, so they had no clue what the fuck to do whenever another missing kid report would come in. Chances are if Mrs. Kaspbrak did call the station and report her precious little Eddie Spaghetti missing, the cops would just brush her off. Marsh, on the other hand…

Henry was kind of embarrassed to admit he didn't know too much about her, just that she was hot now that she was older, and the only girl in that whole pack of boys, and she was a whore. She had to be, willing to be the only girl to run with those Losers. He'd deal with her in a little while. Right now, he just wanted to see Eddie Kaspbrak, that prissy little Momma's Boy, suffer and squirm now. Henry saw Eddie try to shrink into himself, struggling against his zip-ties and the tape on his ankles. He saw him and he felt like his insides curdled like sour milk with lemon. Eddie Kaspbrak revolted Bowers.

He and his guys had been after Kaspbrak for a while now, thinking he was the weakest one in that pathetic Loser's Club, and now, looking at Eddie, who was pretty much crying and begging to be set free, Henry knew he'd been right to target Eddie when the others weren't around.

It pissed him just how much the other friends in their group coddled this kid, treated him with kid gloves like he was made out of fucking porcelain, always sticking up for him, defending him whenever Henry and his crew got going. It pissed Bowers off to no end. It felt like to him Kaspbrak always got a pass because of all his bullshit health problems.

Well, not today. He was going to make this kid suffer. Henry had a lot of rage to get out, and he figured Eddie, the weakest chink in the chain, was going to be a good enough target, and then there was Beverly Marsh.

"Please," Eddie begged tearfully, drawing in a sharp gasp that pained his lungs. "Let us go, Bowers. Wh—what the hell d-di we do to you guys?"

"Oh, nothing," Bowers responded cheerfully, flashing a smile that sent a shudder down both Eddie and Beverly's spine. He knelt into a low crouch and reached out a hand and lightly slapped Eddie's right cheek.

Not hard enough to bruise or anything, but hard enough to enforce his intended message. "Shut the fuck up, Sissy Boy," Henry growled darkly.

"Or _what_?" spat Beverly, who was sitting next to him. She lifted her chin slightly to glower at Bowers, a look of pure rage and defiance in those blue eyes of hers. Though the briefest flickers of fear darted through her sky-blue orbs, eliciting a delighted smirk from Henry as it did. Good.

The smallest admission of fear, however involuntarily. It would do.

"Or I'll get my knife out," growled Henry, and as if to emphasize his point, he slipped his switchblade out of his back jeans pocket and flicked the switch, so that the sharpened point was close to the column of her throat. "You don't want this pretty little neck of yours to have a red ribbon around it, do you, Bevvy? Didn't think so," he sneered, relishing as he watched the Marsh bitch's face completely drain of color right then.

"Look, what the hell do you want with us?" Beverly snapped, her lips parted slightly as she shirked away as Henry pressed the tip of the blade into her neck, clenching her eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. "I—if it's money, here, it's yours, whatever I got in my bag, you can have, just let us go," she begged, struggling to open the main compartment's zipper of the little black messenger bag she wore slung around her shoulder, her hands shaking and thanks to the zip ties, she could barely get the compartment open, fumbling with her little black bifold wallet.

Her hands were shaking so bad you'd thought she'd given up smoking. "You want it? Fucking take it, I don't care anymore. If it'll get you to leave us alone. J-just take it a-and leave us alone. I don't even know what I have in there, probably not much. Twenty bucks maybe thirty, but take it," Bev pleaded, biting her bottom lip, and sticking it out in a pout.

Henry grinned and reached up a hand to caress her cheek gently so and smirked as Beverly the Slut sharply turned her head away, a pained little whimper escaping her lips as her lips parted open slightly in shock. He could do whatever he wanted to Marsh and Kaspbrak and no one would hear their cries for help. The basement's walls were mostly soundproof, assuming these two didn't cause a ruckus and try to escape from here.

"Shush, sweetheart," he crooned throatily, grabbing Bev by her arm, and yanking her to her feet, barely stifling back his smile as she stumbled to her feet. He glanced down towards the open zippered compartment of her bag slung across her left shoulder, where it came to rest at her waist. "Whatcha got in your bag, Bevvy?" he growled, tugging on the strap as his free hand that wasn't maintaining his vice grip on her arm drifted downward from the caressing of the column of her pale throat and towards her purse. "Let's take a look, why don't we?" Henry teased.

"No way, you asshole!" cried Bev, her free hand curling instinctively into a fist over the strap of her bag. Her Daddy, as much as she despised the man, had given it to her for her birthday this year, saying if she so much as lost it, he'd give her a beating with the switch she wouldn't soon forget, and that would teach her to take better care and mind her stuff.

Beverly opened her mouth to tell Bowers what she really thought of him and could only manage a breathy little squeak as Bowers' grip tightened on her arm and she was violently dragged away from Eddie and shoved up against a wall near a metal rack piled with old garden tools.

She let out a pained gasp of surprise and whimpered, clenching her eyes shut, not wanting to see whatever Henry Bowers was going to do to her.

"You're gonna let go of the bag now," the older teen's voice growled, whispering it into the shell of her ear. "Do I need to say it again, slut? Don't make me say it a second time, Bevvy. I really hate saying it a second time." His request came again this time, urgent. Harder.

"Let. Go. Of. The. Bag. Marsh. Right now, or I'll fucking carve my initials onto your pretty little skin. Don't wanna forget who you belong to. You keep this attitude up and try to fuck with us, and I just might make you my bitch," Poison dripped from his words, spat more than spoken, and Bev let out a yelp as she felt Henry's strong hand come up to cup her chin and pull her head forward, so fast she felt a muscle in her neck pull. There was no way in hell she was going to let Henry's grubby sticky sausage fingers all over it.

"Get the hell away from me, Bowers!" Burning rage hissed through Beverly's body like a deadly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence that she was helpless to give to Bowers and his goons the way she desperately wanted. She could barely manage to hang onto the strap of her bag with these goddamned zip ties around both her wrists rendering her pretty much immobile. She dug her heels into the cement floor and tried to fight back as Henry dragged her towards the other side of the basement, away from Eddie. "Let go of me, you—you horse's ass!" Beverly bellowed, panicking. "Bowers, I swear to God!"

"B-Bev! No!" squeaked Eddie from the corner, though he sounded more fearful than angry. "D-don't do this, just—just give him the fucking bag. We can get you another one, Bev, I—I swear! Just let him have it! I-it's not worth getting hurt over. Just give him whatever he fucking wants, your wallet, money, I don't care!" he screeched. "If it gets us out!"

Patrick let out a low growl from the back of his throat and knelt at Eddie's eye level. Bev barely had any time to react as the taller and stronger teen's hand drew back and pummeled into Eddie's gut.

"P-please, don't," Eddie wheezed, already sounding like he was on the verge of another asthma attack. Patrick Hockstedder's smoldering stare held onto the younger man that had frozen in the corner in front of him.

Eddie flinched and clenched his eyes shut, feeling the black spots dance in front of his vision. Fuck, he couldn't breathe. He felt really dizzy all of a sudden. Patrick could feel all his thoughts gnarl together as the temptation to hurt the prissy little faggot in front of him poisoned his bloodstream. A strange hunger twisted his insides as he lurched forward, grabbing onto fistfuls of Kaspbrak's t shirt and hoodie, pouncing at the boy with the wide fearful dark brown eyes. He had gone too fucking far.

Patrick could feel Eddie squirm, his delicate, fragile frame pinned beneath his body as his actions quickened. He ran a strong hand over his throat, wrapping his slender fingers around Eddie's neck and squeezed.

He didn't want to kill Kaspbrak, but the voices thought it was fate.

"Fucking _stop_ this!" Beverly screamed; hysteria laced through her voice. "You assholes are gonna _kill_ him! _Stop_ this! He—he can't breathe, Henry! Tell him to cut it out! Please, just let him go, take whatever the fuck you want, do whatever the hell you're gonna do to me, I can take it, but let Eds go," she begged, wincing as she felt Henry violently tug the strap of her bag over her head and open up the main compartment all the way, dumping the contents out onto the ground at the foot of her sandals.

Her little wallet fell at her feet, as well as a nearly-full carton of Camels. Henry could make use of those later. _Bitch has good taste in smokes at least_ , he thought, stooping down to pick up the carton of cigarettes and pocket them. Not much else was in her bag. A little tube of Chapstick, a lip gloss, a pen. And then something else caught his eye. Henry felt the corners of his mouth twist upwards in a delighted smirk, not having anticipated this.

"Well, well, well," he grinned, holding up the small box of condoms. "The fuck we got here? Take a look, boys! Molly Ringwald here came prepared for us like the little slut she is," Henry joked, tossing the box to Patrick so he could take a closer look. He watched as his friend examined the box, disinterested, before chucking it back Henry's way. At the lack of interest, Henry furrowed his brows into a frown.

Patrick had been acting weirder than usual lately, constantly looking for shit to set on fire with his Zippo lighter, but more importantly than that, it was like Pat had recently discovered the wonders of sex, and seemed to have it on his mind more than usual lately. It was kind of nauseating, really. He'd even gone as far as the other day to suggest he and Henry practice hand jobs on each other.

As if _he_ needed to learn how to do one of those! It was sick, was what it was, and Henry still wasn't sure what to make of Pat at times. Henry frowned, clenching his hands into a fist. Even Henry had lines he wouldn't cross, and that was one of them.

Still, he'd never thought of it as an appropriate form of punishment before. He wondered what exactly they could get away with, especially to _her_. This little bitch had mouthed off to him and his friends for the last fucking time. Henry realized as he stared deadpan into Beverly's eyes he could kill this girl if he was of a mind to, if she didn't do as he demanded.

He might even be able to get away with it. Henry didn't think it would go that far, he did after all wanted to stay out of jail, but still. It was cool to know that he could, and he could tell just by the fear on her face that she knew it, and Kaspbrak sniveling and wheezing over in the other corner of the basement knew it too.

These two were his bitches now, to do with whatever he fucking wanted. They had most of the day till his dad got home, and maybe later this evening, they'd take a little car drive out to the Neibolt House and really fuck with Eddie Kaspbrak that way.

"You and your little friends ever do sex stuff with each other, Marsh?" Henry's question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself asking it. "Surely, you gotta, bein' the only girl in the group, bitch."

It seemed to take Beverly ages to find her voice, given that her chin was still being held hostage by Henry's hand, which was squeezing it in a firm grip. "No," she whispered, her voice cracking and wavering as she spoke.

"Liar," growled Henry, feeling the beginnings of a twisted smirk forming on his voice. "What the fuck you call this then, huh, bitch?"

He felt his free hand not maintaining its grip on Beverly's chin come up to clutch onto the box of condoms he'd picked up off the ground when he'd dumped Beverly's bag at her feet. "Sure, to us looks like you're lettin' 'em put the wood to you," Henry taunted, still smiling at her. "You let 'em all take turns with you, huh? Which one's your favorite? Certainly not the faggot over here, huh? You think about tryin' me for a change? Aint' no way all those Losers can keep you satisfied in bed."

"She's lyin, Henry," Patrick called out, his hand still on Eddie's shoulder. Poor Eddie's face was ashen and sweaty, and he looked like he was about to pass out. "All of their fuckin' little loser friends are decent-looking, I guess. They _had_ to have let the bitch experiment on them all."

Henry stifled a low warning growl in the back of his throat as visions of that whole wretched group of teenaged boys fucking Marsh in a number of ways and he felt his fist curl into a tight fist around Beverly's arm.

She let out a pained gasp of surprise and let out a breathy little squeak, but seemed to have lost the ability to talk back and run her mouth.

For reasons even Henry could not explain, the image drifting to the front of his mind filled his bloodstream with a hot boiling rage like lava.

"Which one?" he whisper-hissed through clenched teeth, leaning in so the tip of his nose was almost touching hers. Close enough to kiss her.

For just a moment, Henry was tempted, just to see if the bitch would put up any kind of resistance on her part and fight back, but he swallowed against the urge and waited for the redheaded whore to tell him the fucking truth. When she did not answer him, he grew even more pissed.

"Which. One?" Henry repeated, seizing the front of her dress and shaking her slightly. "I _know_ you're gettin' action, Marsh. Ain't no reason for you to keep these in your bag otherwise," he growled, his other hand still clutching onto the box of condoms crumpling it into a heap and tossing it onto the floor in disgust. "Which one? Denbrough? The Jew? Surely, it ain't Trashmouth, and you don't seem to be into black guys, so I know it isn't fuckin' Hanlon. Who am I missing? Oh. What about the other one? Big Tits McGee? Though Hanscom ain't so fat anymore now that he lost all that weight. Yeah, that's the one," Henry breathed, feeling his black eyes go wide and round, kind of feeling shocked as he watched as the briefest flickers of recognition darted through Beverly Marsh's blue eyes. Suddenly, he felt disgusted at her.

Just the thought that she would let someone who'd previously been so fat he'd had two chins that wobbled whenever he walked, fuck her, was enough to send him into a rage. Henry bared his teeth in a growl and violently relinquished his grip on Marsh, watching, satisfied, as she crumpled to a heap, the strength leaving her legs and she slumped against the wall near the shelf with some of his dad's old garden tools for support.

"We're gonna make you wish you'd never set foot outside today," Henry breathed, his gaze fixated on Beverly, though after a minute of watching the redheaded bitch cower in the corner, he turned to Pat.

"We can do a whole lot worse to you than what we got planned," Patrick threatened menacingly. "You don't wanna end up dead, you listen to what me an' Henry tell you and stay the fuck quiet, got it?"

Henry felt a sudden shift within himself as he looked at Beverly over in the corner and got a wild idea. He could take her upstairs, and she'd hang out with _them_ for a little while. He'd have to take the zip ties off, of course, and make sure the bitch didn't try anything funny to escape but at least if his dad did come a little bit early and saw Henry had a girl over, he wouldn't really question it much and leave him the hell alone for now.

"C'mon, Honey Tits," Henry growled, yanking Bev to her feet. "You stay nice an' quiet now, and don't try anything fuckin' _stupid_ , an' I'll take these off. Your wrists have gotta be killin' you. No way they aren't," he growled, pulling out his pocketknife and cutting off her zip ties, though not relinquishing his hold on her arm. "You don't want your fucking faggot friend to end up in a ditch missing his precious body parts, you're gonna shut the fuck up and stay quiet, you understand me?"

"I'll stay here with Kaspbrak if you and Belch wanna go with Marsh upstairs," Patrick offered, and squeezed Eddie's shoulder in a tight grip.

"Good enough," Henry laughed. Both these assholes, Marsh and Kaspbrak, were so fucking pathetic, but mostly Eddie. Bev, at least she was a pretty face and had a good body, and he might— just _might_ —let her off easy, assuming she put out for him once he got the bitch upstairs.

Henry wrenched Beverly forward, still keeping a tight grip on her arm.

"C'mon, dollface. You an' me are gonna have us a little _tour_ of the house. I think you'll like my room," he grinned, ignoring Eddie Kaspbrak's pitiful whimpers for him to stop. "I'm gonna grab a drink," he hollered back to Hockstedder as he was vaguely aware of Belch following him, though their other friend was saying how he had to head for home. "Yeah, whatever, Belch," Henry growled, waving his hand irritably. "Go on home if you want. More fun for me an' Pat here," he grinned. "You want anything, Pat?" he called out over his shoulder, sparing Patrick Hockstedder one last glance as he shoved Beverly Marsh up the staircase.

"Nah. I'm good. Thanks though," Pat smirked as he turned towards Eddie as Henry escorted Beverly up the stairs, Belch close at their heels.

Eddie swallowed as he looked up into Patrick's eyes.

"Fuck," he whispered. Now he was in _really_ deep shit without Bev here…


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Beverly let out a tiny little breathy squeak of relief intermingled with fear as she felt the tip of Henry's knife finally leave the small of her back as the older teen harshly guided her towards the Bowers' living room.

The room gave away Butch Bowers' bachelor lifestyle ever since Henry's mom had run off when Henry was maybe only five or six.

Everything in the place was functional. The mantle where Butch no doubt put his keys and garage door opener. On the coffee table was a wrench set and a new set of wheels for what looked to be Henry's bike.

_Just fucking great_ , Bev thought darkly as she eyeballed the wheels _. If he gets his stupid bike fixed, he's way faster than any of us, except maybe Bill when he's on Silver, but if he fixes his bike, we're in deep shit_.

Under the small eating table in the kitchen was a sick pack of beer. Bev guessed that the fridge-freezer held meals for two and the guys had more clothes in the laundry basket than in either one of their bedroom closets.

She could tell the Bowers family wasn't totally hopeless though, Butch clearly knew one end of a vacuum cleaner from the other. There were a couple of modern looking prints of the wall and a small photo of what appeared to be Henry's grandparents on a side table. They didn't decorate, that's for sure, but then again, with just the two of them, why would they need to? Beverly knew that she and her father never did.

Beverly swallowed past the lump in her throat as Henry turned around to face her, smiling wickedly, a look she had seen on his face before.

She could not help the feeling of fear that pricked at her heart, how in just that simple gesture, Henry Bowers told Beverly everything she needed to know. That she was probably the first girl he'd brought over here, and that could only spell trouble for her. And Eddie, poor Eddie!

Beverly cringed as she thought of her friend still being left alone in that dark dank basement with Patrick, that fucking creepy pyromaniac.

"What's Hockstedder going to do to Eddie?" she demanded angrily, swallowing hard past the lump in her throat as her blue eyes darted around wildly, looking for any means of escape or something she could use as a means to defend herself and beat the shit out of Bowers.

"Don't you worry about it none, slut, Kaspbrak isn't your concern, Marsh. Pat'll take _real_ good care of him," growled Henry in a low warning voice. "Sit." He pointed with the tip of his blade towards a black leather armchair, which looked kind of expensive, much to her surprise.

Beverly felt like her legs were mush, and she couldn't force herself to take the three steps it would take her to go over and have a seat. Plus, once she did as he asked, it was probably only a matter of time before he raped her in that chair, or beat her, kicked her, stabbed her, whatever.

"Do I need to say it a second time, bitch?" Henry snarled, grabbing Beverly by the arm, and violently shoving her forward into the chair.

"N-no," Beverly whispered, averting her gaze, and resting her free hands in her lap, though she rubbed her left gingerly as that was the one that hurt the worst, the skin rubbed raw and bleeding. "But…can I ask you a question?" she asked, biting her bottom lip in a slight pout.

"What?" Henry spat, seated on the edge of the chair's armrest, one of his hands absently playing a strand of Beverly's red hair. Bev shuddered, hating the feel of his strong fingers entangled in the back of her hair, but feeling utterly powerless to do anything about it. She felt like if she resisted and tried to fight back, then Bowers would just tell Pat to hurt Eddie even harder. She didn't give a fuck what happened to her, she could take it, but Eddie, she hated to admit, was very delicate and fragile.

Though her friend, Bev knew, was stronger than most gave him credit for. _The way he tackled that fucking clown with a baseball bat a few years ago should be more than enough to everyone else to show he's no coward_ , Bev thought sadly, though she hoped her face remained neutral.

"What the fuck do you want with us, huh? You've got what you wanted, okay? We're—we're fucking terrified, Bowers," Beverly confessed. "Please…if there's any shred of decency in you, let us go. We won't call the cops or tell anyone what happened, I swear to God."

Henry let out a short bark like laugh and rested his hand on her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. "I don't think so, Molly Ringwald," he growled. "You assholes make me laugh, you know that, sweet cheeks? Buncha goddamned sissies runnin' around all summer crying about a stupid fuckin' clown that you claim lives in the sewers? What kinda sick joke are you playing at? It's all a ploy for attention, an' I'm tired of it. Besides," he added, running his palm along her prominent collarbones, "being the only girl in the group for you has to get old, right? Don't you ever get fuckin' sick of bein' those boys' fuckin' mattress, bitch?' he said.

Beverly swallowed hard, feeling like her throat was constricting up and cutting off her ability to breathe. For a moment, she wondered if this was the same kind of feeling poor Eddie got whenever he suffered an asthma attack. "I—you're wrong," Beverly whispered angrily, biting her lip. "what's this really about, huh? You think you can, what, hold us hostage or some stupid shit and try to buy out a ransom so our parents can get us back? What the fuck are you and your guys playing at, Bowers? Huh?"

Henry snorted, unfazed by Bev's little outburst. "No. I ain't gonna ransom you off, who the fuck would pay to get your and Kaspbrak's asses alive back unharmed? You dad's a fucking janitor, right? He doesn't make shit, and Kaspbrak's mom is just an overbearing attention seeking bitch."

"I—if it's money you want, I can…I can get you some," Beverly breathed, feeling her blue eyes go wide and round with shock as the suggestion tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Bowers frowned as she rummaged in the main compartment of her bag she wore slung over her shoulder. He didn't know why he'd forgotten to remove that from her or why he'd let her bring it up here in the first place. At least, Patrick still had the girl's phone, he'd seen it in his jeans pocket before taking the bitch up the stairs. He watched as Beverly Marsh pulled out her black little bifold wallet and two crumpled twenty dollar bills and threw them at his chest.

"Fucking take it, goddamn it. I don't know, consider it an apology for whatever we did to piss you off, Bowers, but let Eddie and me go. I—if that's not enough, I can—I can go to the ATM on the corner of 10th and Main and get you some more. Whatever you want, you can even come with me if you want to make sure I don't run off, b-but let Eddie go at least. Take me, let him go."

There was a stunned silence for a long moment, and Bev felt an uncomfortable pit forming at the bottom of her stomach. Henry let out another laugh, and Beverly winced. She knew it had been a bad idea to even suggest that as an option, but anything to get her outside, so she could run for help. Run into a store, have them call the cops, something.

_Gotta save Eddie. Stay calm, don't freak out, and you might make it._

"Molly Ringwald, you're a real piece of work, you know that? Do you think I'm fuckin' stupid, is that? I know what'll happen if I go with you to an ATM. You get money for me, and the cops catch me on camera, I don't fuckin' think so, bitch. I'm not stupid, Marsh, far from it," Henry growled, though Beverly shuddered as his voice rose an octave. He almost sounded…amused, and whatever Henry found funny, to the rest of the Losers, usually spelled big trouble for them. "You'd really pay me off to get me off your back?" he asked, sounding thoughtful, which could be a good sign, that meant he was at the very least, considering her offer. "How much you got?" he growled, his ironclad grip on her shoulder suddenly tightening. "An' don't even think about fuckin' lying to me..."

"F—five hundred, I think, is the daily limit our— _my_ bank lets me withdraw in one day, b-but I can find a way to get you more," Beverly whispered, biting her lip and trying her hardest not to look Henry in the eyes. "I've got a few thousand saved up from my summer job back at my apartment," she said.

"You really think _money_ is gonna save you, girl?" Bowers taunted, reaching up a hand with disgustingly overly long fingernails that would have no doubt made Eddie gag just to see the dirt trapped underneath and brushed back a lock of red hair over her shoulders. "I don't think so…"

Beverly's insides went cold and turned to ice in her bloodstream. This was so not good. She knew what was about to happen to her, and Patrick Hockstedder had taken her phone, so she had no way to call for help.

Adrenaline flooded her system, pumping and beating in her veins like it was trying to escape. She thought for sure her heart was going to explode, and her eyes were wide with fear. Her body either wanted to run fast towards the front door, towards the safety of the outside world, or back down to the basement and do what she could to help free Eddie from Patrick.

Instead, she remained where she was, seated in the chair, stock still and frozen as Henry hovered dangerously over her, unable to move due to the weight of Bowers' hand clutching her shoulder, preventing her from making a fucking run for it. _Goddamn you, Bowers_ , she thought, grinding her teeth together in anger. _I hope you fucking choke_. Let's face it. There was only one thing Beverly could do. Pray Bowers didn't kill her before help arrived. Hopefully, his dad would come home.

She didn't know much about Butch, just that he was one of a few cops on Derry's full-time police force, and he seemed like he was tough but fair. _If his dad were here, he'd put a stop to this. I hope_ , she thought.

Bev froze as she felt his hands begin to tug on her dress slightly. "No, she hissed, pushing back against his chest. He swiveled his head back and moved to meet her gaze, and let out another short, bark-like laugh. Evil.

"Don't need you fighting me on this one, bitch," Henry growled angrily. "That just complicates things." Noticing her blue eyes darkening to an almost cerulean hue in color the angrier she got, he let out a low warning growl from the back of his throat. "You're just a bit of rough from the gutters, Marsh. You think someone's gonna come for your ass? They won't. Fat Boy Ben Hanscom isn't gonna save your ass, Ringwald."

Bev silently seethed, feeling her hands ball into fists in her lap. She had been about to open her mouth and shout at Bowers, to tell him to quit calling Ben fat, he wasn't that kid anymore. At eighteen, he'd lost all of his weight now and ran track for the high school's cross-country team.

But she didn't get a chance to as Henry, sensing her irritation, smirked, and continued. "Welcome to your new life, cunt," here, the older teen spat the word as if it were poison on his tongue. "Just a buncha one-night stands, hookups, lonely regrets. You're a girl who knows how to get around. It's what a bitch like you is made for, aren't you, Bevvy?" he hissed.

The thoughts felt like they were accelerating inside her head. Beverly wanted nothing more than for them to slow down, but they wouldn't.

Her breaths came in short spurts, pained little gasps and the young woman felt like she was going to pass the fuck out if Henry so much as laid another finger on her shoulder, which she knew he was like to do.

Her heart was hammering inside her chest like a rabbit running for its skin. The room spun and she felt the strength in her legs give out, and she would have fallen on her knees had she not already been forced in the chair. Beverly felt herself shirk away from Henry's light groping as his hand squeezed her breast, and she angrily smacked his hand away.

"Get off!" Beverly snarled angrily. His response was another smirk.

"Bitch, that's what I'm tryin' to do, now hold the fuck still and shut the fuck up or Kaspbrak's gettin' it."

Beverly felt so sick. She wanted to call for help but that cocksucker Patrick had her phone…it was too far away…too far away for help…

Even if she did know, she wouldn't know who to call, who to send to come and get them out of here. She knew she didn't want Ben or the other Losers to see her and Eddie like this, it would kill them all.

_Do they even know we're gone? Probably not_ , Bev thought, anguished. Blackness swirled and crept into the front of her vision, coloring her sight with black dots…a horrible creeping blackness. Beverly let out a low whimper and curled up into the chair, bringing her knees close to her chest, anything she could think of to defend herself from whatever was about to happen next. She could guess though and didn't like to think it.

_Someone help us_ , Beverly pleaded, no longer caring if Butch came home. She bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to crack and bleed.

She chanced a glance up at Henry, who was looking at his newest plaything with something akin to amusement in his listless blue eyes.

"You know what," he growled, sounding thoughtful, and just the way he spoke his thought out loud like that was enough to render Bev's blood in her veins to ice. Whenever Henry started getting ideas and thinking, that was a really bad sign. It usually meant he was thinking of new ways to inflict cruel and tortuous punishment on his victims. "I don't think I will," he growled. "Not _yet_ ," he added darkly, for emphasis as he paused.

"What…?" Beverly's voice came out as a low, breathy squeak.

"What's the fun in fucking you if the other Loser's aren't around to watch? Especially your faggot boyfriend, Fat Boy, though he's not so tubby anymore, is he, dollface? Too bad," Henry growled. "Big Tits McGee ain't gonna like his girl gettin' some action from someone else. Besides, you all need to be punished for what you fuckin' did," he growled, gesturing towards the thick white line, a scar above his brow.

Beverly flinched and was unable to avert her gaze. Oh, boy, did she remember giving him that. The apocalyptic rock fight in the woods.

She had been the one to hit that rock with such a well-aimed throw that it had struck Bowers right in his head, and now, he had the scar to prove it. So that was his game. He didn't like that a girl had beat him.

And now, he was punishing her for it, and his idea of making the punishment fit the crime was kidnapping Ben too, making him watch.

That last insult was the breaking point of Beverly's patience.

At the moment, she was blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter in her mouth, yet somehow strangely satisfying still. Bev somehow managed to miraculously wrench her arm out of Henry's grip and bolt out of the chair, and she wasn't really thinking about what she was doing as she let out her boiling antipathy and rage and swung her fist tight, too quick, and potent into Henry Bower's jawline. The impact like thousands of venomous blades piercing apart her clammed up fist.

It led Beverly to only one conclusion. That it really fucking hurt.

"You fucking _bitch_!" bellowed Henry, letting out a roar, and Bev let out a scream as she felt Bowers' strong hand violently grip her hair and tug on it hard. "You try that shit again, and I'll fuckin' kill you. Stab you right in the heart. See if I fuckin don't. Shut the fuck up," Henry's voice growled, brutal against her right ear.

Bev struggled against Bowers, shooting her right leg out as she felt herself being forcefully pulled away from the guy's living room and down a narrow hallway, away from where the basement was, no doubt he was taking her to his bedroom, where he'd do whatever he wanted, and that she simply could not fucking allow to happen to her. Her movements were too slow. Henry's hand moved from the waistband of the knot on the bodice of her green dress, and Henry seized Beverly's arms, trapping them to her sides. He pushed her roughly further down the hallway and steered her towards the right. To his bedroom.

The agile gesture caused Beverly to stumble, almost falling flat on the side of her face. She let out a pained whimper and swallowed hard, not wanting to meet Henry's eyes and see the anger that resonated in them.

"Do whatever you're gonna do to me, asshole," she growled, spitting out the words as if they were poison, "and go to fucking hell and burn!"

In one last act of defiance as she felt herself being wrestled onto her back on top of Henry's mattress, she spat in the older teen's face as he leaned in.

Bev let out a startled gasp and clenched her eyes shut, violently turning her head to the side to avoid looking her captor in his cold blue eyes. His coarse whiskey tongue licked at the skin around her neck, his fingers finding purchase in her red hair, pressing in at the back of her skull. Every time Beverly closed her eyes, he bashed her head backwards onto his pillow, demanding that she open them and look at her.

She didn't fucking want to, she closed them over and over, anything rather than watch his Bowers' face light up with power and lust for her.

Henry became angry, his force less controlled as his fingers fumbled, shaking, thought whether it was from anger or nerves, Bev didn't know.

"No," she whisper-hissed through gritted teeth, weakly trying to smack his hands away as he continued trying to hike up the skirts of her dress.

Bev let out a pained whimper as his hand curled into a fist and pummeled into her ribcage. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over as she bolted off the bedroom and out towards the living room, panting heavily from the exertion, Henry right behind her. She opened her mouth, preparing to let out the loudest scream that she possibly could, right when the slam of the front door came like a punctation, and she clamped her mouth shut, noticing Bowers freeze.

Before this, Beverly had had no hope, and after it, she now had a little.

_That's gotta be his dad_ , she thought wildly, raking her fingers through her red hair and smoothing the skirts of her green dress, grabbing her little black bag which she had foolishly forgotten to grab off the armchair.

It cracked through the house as loud as any whip, stinging at her bruised insides, which were screaming for relief, begging her to sit down, feeling like it had left her dying without an injury to show for her pains.

She felt the strength leave her legs and Bev collapsed back into the black leather armchair that Henry had forced her into only moments ago. Bev let out a squeak of fear as she felt Henry's strong grip on her arm tighten, not hard enough to break her arm, but strong enough to enforce his intended message.

"Remember, bitch," he growled lowly into the shell of her ear. "Not one goddamn word about any of this to my old man, cause if you tell, I'm gonna fucking kill Kaspbrak and cut him up into little tiny pieces, and I'm gonna make you watch, whore," he snarled meanly, as Bev frantically worked to smooth the skirts of her dress and ran her fingers through her hair, hoping her appearance looked neat, for there could be no doubt about what Henry had just tried to do.

" **HENRY**!" came Officer Butch Bowers' voice, his holler reverberating in Beverly's ears like a clap of thunder, such was the cop's pure rage, that roar of pure anger. "Get your ass out here, boy. I hate bein' ignored!"

Beverly drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs, which felt like they were on fire, still in immense pain from where Henry had hit her, as she watched with wide eyes as Henry's posture stiffened and straightened, and Bev felt her breath catch in her throat as Henry's dad strode into the room. Butch Bowers startled a little at the sight of Beverly in the chair.

Bev swallowed past the lump forming in her throat and blinked back briny tears, hoping her face remained impassive enough to pull this off.

Butch was the first to break the awkward silence and the tension in the Bowers' living room.

"Henry, who the hell is this?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Butch Bowers had all the usual height of a Derry cop, but none of the bulk. He had to be pushing forty at least, and yet, he had the build of a younger man, lithe muscle under his uniform. Beverly swallowed hard past the lump in her throat, feeling one of her hands drifting of its own accord to the skirts of her dress and automatically trying to smooth out the wrinkles. She glanced towards the hallway and to the left that led down to the basement, praying to God Eddie had heard the door slam and had found some way to escape Patrick Hockstedder's sick perverted clutches.

"Just hang in there, Eds," she whispered, careful to keep her voice low enough so that neither Henry or his dad could hear her.

Beverly could practically feel Henry's stare burning a hole in the back of her skull and she swallowed nervously again and forced her attention back towards his father, Butch, who was still waiting for someone to answer his question. "M-my name is Beverly, sir," Beverly heard herself whisper in a voice barely above a whisper. "Marsh," she added, noticing Butch furrow his thick brows into a slight frown. "I uh...go to school with some of Henry's...friends," she croaked hoarsely, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear.

"You Alvin Marsh's little girl, ain't you? Your daddy works over at the school as a janitor?" Butch asked, tossing his cruiser keys onto the kitchen table before going over to the fridge and wrenching the door open violently.

"Y-yes, sir," she squeaked, raking her fingers through her red hair. "Th-that's me. A-and yes. He does." Beverly bit her bottom lip and glanced over at Henry, who hadn't relinquished his hold on her arm, though after a look from his dad that would have had the power to wilt a flower.

"Ayuh," he mumbled, pulling out a bottle of Heineken from the fridge and kicking the door shut with the heel of his boot. "Thought so. Recognized you by that red hair."

Beverly flinched as she felt the cop's inquisitive gaze drift upwards and settled on her mane of red hair. It was often a lot one of the only things guys in town commented on.

"M-my hair, sir?" she whispered, drawing in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as Butch Bowers pulled out a chair, and lifted his chin to glower at his young son. Beverly wondered if Butch had recognized her, just how much he was in contact with her father.

If they were friends. Or at least friendly and acquaintances with each other. Daddy never really spoke much about his work, or about his friends, who he talked to in town. She'd never thought to ask, though now she was starting to wish that she had.

"You got it, Miss Marsh," he murmured, turning towards Beverly. "Ain't no other girl in all of Derry has red hair like you. I think you might be the only one, but it looks good on ya. Well?" he growled, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied Henry over the edge of the beer bottle as he lifted the opening to his lips and drank heavily. "You'd think you didn't have any manners, boy. You gonna let the girl sit down or what? Gotta admit, this is a first for me. You shoulda told me you were having a girl over. You ain't had a girl over here. _Ever_. Was starting to think you were one of those queer faggot types, like that kid that went missing. Though I was gonna be forced to use the switch an' beat it outta you."

Bev took a seat at the little round kitchen table, Henry following her lead. One glance over at Henry was more than enough for Bev. He was pissed, she could tell already.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and so did a muscle in his eyelid, but he clenched his jaw shut and favored silence as a response. Beverly, to break the awkward silence in the air, cleared her throat once, resting her hands in her lap, unsure of what to do with them and began fidgeting with one of the little silver rings she wore on her right hand. A gift from Ben. _He's gonna freak the fuck out when he finds out we didn't show to lunch_.

Part of Beverly wondered if he and the other Loser's already were, and if they'd decided to do anything about it. Maybe they'd ditched school for the rest of the day and had formed into pairs, trying to look for them. A small part hoped they found them.

But…another part of her subconscious really hoped they stayed out of this. It was no secret Eddie's mom thought his friends were nothing but bad news. And as for Daddy, well, it was no secret at least to her that he despised the fact she ran with a crew of boys.

Something told her she wasn't going to get any help from Mrs. Kaspbrak or her father. That she and Eddie were well and truly on her own in trying to get away from _him_.

Butch let out a strange little grunt from the back of his throat as he sifted through the pile of mail, some of the envelopes looking like they'd not been touched in possibly weeks.

"You two datin' now, or what? Why you over here, Miss Marsh?" He furrowed his brow into a frown and glanced at Bev, who visibly winced and hoped that her eyes didn't betray just how skittish she actually was. She glanced down at her hands and noticed how raw the red skin around her wrists were. Her hands were trembling, and she felt jittery.

God, what she wouldn't give for a smoke right now. Just one to take the edge off…

But her smokes were in Henry's back jeans pocket, and she highly doubted that Butch Bowers would allow her to smoke in his kitchen, so she'd have to let that desire go.

"Huh?" she asked, Butch Bowers' voice momentarily jolting her out of her panicked steady stream of thoughts and back towards the present moment and the harsh reality of her dire situation. _Have to be strong and save Eddie. Lying is your only way out of this_.

"Not a word, remember, or I'll have Pat downstairs put a cigarette out on Kaspbrak's arm, bitch. See if I fuckin' don't," Henry whisper-hissed into the shell of her ear, lowering his voice so that only Bev had a chance of possibly hearing what he had said to her now.

"Uh, H-Henry's just a friend, sir. I—I don't have classes today, so he offered to show me where he lived f-for something to do. It's a really nice house you guys have," Beverly offered, plastering a fake little smile onto her face, and hoping that it was believable enough as she let the muscles around her eyes fall a little to re-create smile-lines. First impressions were always vital, even to a pretentious prick like Butch Bowers was rumored to be to folks. "I hope it's okay that he brought me here, Mr. Bowers."

Beverly liked to think that she had mastered her fake smile, right down to the wrinkles around her eyes. No one ever questioned her except for one person these days.

Ben. Her boyfriend was able to see straight past the fakeness, and instead had this habit of looking into her eyes, the windows to her soul, if she had one, and Beverly cherished it. She drew in a sharp breath of air, hating how it felt like her lungs were on fire.

Beverly purposefully kept her hands in her lap so the police officer wouldn't see the red markings or her bleeding wrists from where Henry and Belch Huggins had bound them together with a pair of zip ties. Thank fuck Henry had taken the time to cut the damn things off. She stuck out her bottom lip and bit it, not caring if her lips were cracked and bleeding.

She let out a hiss as Butch Bowers snorted and rolled her eyes. "Thought I seen you with that one boy 'round town. The hell's his name? The one that used to be kinda on the fat side? Barry? Ben? Yeah, Ben. Hanscom, I think. That's one kid whose parent around town seems to have her head on straight, thank God. You dump him or somehin?" he asked, not noticing or choosing to ignore Beverly stunned look. He shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "I don't care what you two do in Henry's room so long as you keep the noise down," he growled, his comment more directed towards Henry. "An' you know what I said about usin' protection?" he snapped; eyes narrowed. "You're only twenty, don't wanna see you goin' into the army anytime soon cause you couldn't control your goddamn dick and got a girl pregnant with your bastard kid. World's got too many kids already."

She didn't know what to say to that at all, so she chose silence as a response. Beverly let out a cough and quickly covered her mouth, lowering her hand before Butch could so much as take a close enough look at the red skin of her wrists, still bleeding. She glanced towards Henry, who gave a curt nod, though he was getting pissed.

"Yes, sir," he growled through gritted teeth, and Beverly hissed as she felt his hand drift, where it settled on top of her dress and rested on her right thigh and squeezed it hard.

Henry looked at Butch Bowers and frowned. Officer Bowers grew more withered every day, looking as though he had way too much leathery skin from being outside to cover his wilting frame. His face had lost its healthy color, fading to an ashy gray hue, looking as though dust had begun to gather on his probably rotting body, thanks to all the incessant smoking and drinking Butch partook in whenever he was off the clock and home.

Butch had been fond of telling Henry growing up that it was never about the money. It was never the money. Butch Bowers signed up to join the police force to protect and serve, maybe he was old fashioned, but he believed in public service. He saw the worst of humanity on a daily basis and it tested him. It tested his faith in the goodness of people and his natural optimism and had rendered him a bitter man. He was there when the fire crews cut lifeless teens from the mangled wrecks of their birthday presents. He was there when a bleeding wife refused to press charges. He was there when the street walkers were released back to same abused and drug-addled lives. But he also witnessed the firefighters rush into burning buildings, he saw the paramedics pulling miracles from thin air, he saw the emergency nurses with their quick hands and the doctors who took charge of situations most would run from. He was proud to be a police officer. He was proud of his unit

Henry couldn't remember what his father had looked like when he was younger. But now, Butch Bowers had lost his youthful and once handsome looks. He was clean shaven, and his hair trimmed short, revealing a decrepit mask where every wrinkle, sunspot, blemish, and imperfection could be seen, though not that Butch Bowers gave a shit, really.

Now whenever Henry looked at Butch, all he could see was a frightened old man paranoid someone was going to come up to him in the dead of night and slit his throat while he slept. As he met Butch's gaze, he wondered if his dad was more scared of living or of dying, and what, if anything, he was afraid of it all. _Probably nothing_ , he thought.

"You guys hear about Sonia's kid? Crazy old bat came to the station this afternoon and reported her son missing." Butch snorted and rolled his eyes, cracking open another beer. Beverly let out a breathy squeak and felt her back muscles tense as she tried to straighten her posture and sit upright in the chair. She felt the frog forming in her throat and desperately wished she had a glass of water. Henry beside her shook his head no.

"Which kid is this?" he growled, feigning innocence, and Beverly clenched her jaw shut in anger, tempted to wipe that goddamned fake smirk off his worthless little face.

Butch rolled his eyes. "I can't fuckin' remember what his name is. E, starts with an E, I think. Evan or Eric Kaspbrak. Tiny little shrimp of a kid. Seventeen fuckin' years old, not much older than you or Marsh here. Boy's always sick all the time, always got some bone that's broken or some infection in his asthmatic lungs his mom always thinks he's dying from. Well, his mom came to the station today and I was the one who had to put out the fire. What a goddamned mess. Woman was in a helluva state, screaming and crying."

"O-oh," Beverly breathed. Her eyes drifted towards the locked basement door and she flinched as she felt Henry's dirty ass nails rake into her dress, silently warning her no. "What's gonna happen to her case?" Beverly couldn't help but ask as she bit her lip.

Butch shook his head in disbelief and rested his elbows on the table, clamping a cigarette in between his teeth and flicking his lighter to ignite the joint. Beverly winced.

She wished _she_ had one. Her hands were still trembling like a kid who had epilepsy or something, and her mind was craving the temporary relief the harmful nicotine brought.

"You ask me, I think the mom did it," growled Butch, taking in a long drag of his joint and turning his head away to blow away the cigarette smoke away from Beverly.

Henry snorted, and Beverly jumped, startled at the noise. "Why the hell would that bitch kill her own kid? She's like, crazy, right? She fuckin' loves the attention she gets."

The corners of Butch Bowers' lips twitched as though he was fighting back a sarcastic smile. "That's the point. She's gonna milk this for all the goddamn sympathy she can get. Kid's picture's gonna be plastered on every window of every business in town, on all the milk cartons, and I betcha dollars to donuts we're never gonna find the kid's body. Anyway, if it's not Mrs. Kapsbrak that did it, it's gotta be some sick perverted pedophile that has him. Fuck," he growled, curling his hands into a fist over his now empty beer bottle. "I feel bad for that kid. He ain't got a goddamn prayer in the world. There are some sick psychotic sons of bitches out in the world, and we're gonna catch who's takin' all these kids. That's why you gotta quit hanging out with Hockstedder and Huggins an' I forget the other one's name, but those are the kinda assholes that get off on torturing animals an' if it gets bad enough, eventually they get bored of animals and move on to experimenting with kids. You know your buddy Hockstedder was the main suspect in the arson fire? An' for killin' all of Old Man Mansart's horses out on his farm on Route 82?"

"Pat didn't do that," Henry retorted angrily. "I told you, he was with me that day."

Butch Bowers' eyes flashed, and he slammed his now-empty beer bottle down onto the kitchen table, the sound so loud and resonated within the quiet little kitchen nook that it made both Beverly and Henry jump in their seats. Beverly swallowed nervously, smiling.

"I don't care if he was or not, boy," growled Butch, his cold gaze fixated on his young son. "How many times do I gotta tell you this? Assholes like your little fuck buddies Hockstedder an' Belch are gonna grow up to become child molesters and then kill 'em. If that Kaspbrak boy ain't dead already, he's probably goin' through hell an' wishin' he was." Butch shook his head as though immensely disappointed about something.

Henry frowned, feeling a hot boiling anger seep through his veins like a slow creeping poison. He wondered if his dad would feel anything at all if he were to go missing or if he'd worry about him at all.

Henry watched as his dad rummaged through the stack of bills piled on the table and chucked one at Henry. "You wanna explain this to me?" Butch Bowers growled.

Henry motioned towards the unsealed envelope with slightly shaking fingers. It looked like their electricity bill that was now two days late. "It's a bill," he snapped.

Butch rolled his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock. They oughta give you a medal an' we'll hang it up right in our goddamn living room next to your momma's picture. An' now it's fuckin' late, cause you didn't let me know. This whole goddamned place is a fuckin' mess. You live here for free, boy, while you're under my rules. Least you could do is clean." He paused and glanced towards Beverly, whose face was white and impassive. He slumped his shoulders and the worst of his anger seemed to evaporate. "You're lucky you got the girl here with you or you'd be gettin' a whole lotta hurt from me," Butch growled.

Henry felt the muscles in his shoulder tense, and he chose silence as the better option. If he said anything, it was just more likely to piss off his dad and then they'd start a fight. Henry still wasn't fully sure he'd recovered from the last brawl Butch had started.

"I'm goin' out. Keep the noise down an' remember what I said bout usin' protection, cause I'm not bailin' you out if Marsh comes to you later with that kinda news. You do an' it's all on you, kid. Man up for God's sake or you're not gonna make it in this world," Butch growled, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair as he strode towards the front door.

Beverly hitched in a sharp breath as he passed by the basement door. She could have sworn she heard a thumping noise just then. She felt Henry's grip on her thigh tense as Butch Bowers paused right by the door. "The fuck is that?" Butch Bowers growled, glancing towards the locked basement door.

"Probably nothing, Dad. Something probably just fell off one of the shelves or whatever, I'll take care of it, don't worry none about it," Henry spoke up quickly, rising from his chair and heading towards the basement, still keeping a firm grip on Bev's arm. "Me an' Bevvy here will check it out," he added, shooting her a slightly playful little smirk.

Butch nodded, not seeming to care one way or the other. "Fine but remember what I said. Keep the noise down an' don't fuckin' do anything stupid. Hell, clean this place up too while you're at it. It better be clean by the time I get back or you're gonna be hurtin'."

With nothing else to say to Henry or to Beverly, though he did pause to tip his hat towards Bev in a show of respect, he strode out the door and slammed the front door.

Henry exhaled slowly through his nose. Thank fuck his dad hadn't gone down into the basement and found Patrick and Henry. He would have been pissed to learn that he'd brought Pat over and let alone the fact that he was holding the Kaspbrak kid hostage might just be enough to send his dad over the edge and kill him. God knows he probably wanted it. "Let's go, bitch," Henry growled, yanking Beverly forward by her arm and wrenching over the basement door. That was one hell of a close call, but it was time to send Pat home.

He'd brought Eddie and Marsh here to have fun with both of them, and he had a lot of rage to get out and he wanted the one on one time with each of his victims, make them squeal like the little girls they were. Henry smirked as he led Bev back downstairs.

Now they could really get started and the fun was only just beginning...


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Eddie let out a shaking, pained breath and inhaled as much fresh air as he could once he heard the basement door open and Beverly mumble something to Henry under her breath. "Oh, thank fuck," he breathed, though not low enough so that Hockstedder didn't hear it. He blanched as he quickly realized his mistake.

"Oh, shit, oh, god, oh, fuck," he whispered, shirking back as far as he could, leaning against the wall away from Hockstedder, who grinned wickedly back. He swallowed nervously as Patrick refused to release his hand from his thigh. It was kind of gross, really, just how obsessed Patrick was with the idea of sex, even going so far as to whisper awful stuff into Eddie's ear about giving him a hand job, while Henry and Beverly had been upstairs with Henry's dad, Butch.

Their kidnappers knew Eddie and Beverly well, what kind of people they were. They knew Beverly wouldn't be fazed by talk of what they'd do to them.

But Eddie would. He let out a low whimper as Patrick's grip on his leg tightened, and he felt tears prick at his eyes as he felt Hockstedder fumble with the waistband of his jeans. He squirmed away, as best he could given that his hands were bound with fucking zip ties, and his legs bound together with duct tape. "Hold fucking still, you little faggot," growled Pat. "Or you're gonna hurt. I'm tryin' to be nice to you but you move around a whole bunch, I'll kick you."

"Please!" begged Eddie, and he thought it was a miracle he could even speak, let alone form a cohesive thought. He really wished he were back home.

He'd take listening to his ma's bullshit nonsense over this any day of the week.

"Patrick!" barked Henry at the foot of the stairs, stepping off and violently shoving Beverly forward. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, huh?"

Hockstedder's eyes narrowed until they were mere slits. "Nothing," he growled in response, turning back towards Henry and Beverly, both of whom were eyeing Patrick with equal parts apprehension and total, utter disgust. "was just seein' how much I could make him cry just by touching him. Where it hurts…"

Eddie shivered as Pat moved his hand underneath his t shirt, the smooth skin of his palm against his abdomen felt surprisingly smooth. He drew in a sharp breath that screamed for relief. Fucking hell, he really needed his inhaler right now.

"That's disgusting, Patrick," Henry growled, and Eddie felt his shoulders slump in relief as Patrick removed his hand abruptly from his absentminded stroking of his stomach, his hand had been wandering dangerously close to his pelvis. "It's off limits, the kinda shit you're into, Hockstedder. And my dad's gonna be back soon probably anyway, so you should probably head for home."

Patrick frowned, though he stood up and wiped his palms on the seat of his jeans. "Why? You mad about all this?" he asked, gesturing towards Eddie.

Eddie barely felt Beverly's hand on his shoulder as she knelt down next to Eddie. He swallowed past the lump forming in his throat and looked at his friend. She wasn't looking much better. There was a cut above her eyebrow and one hell of a nasty looking bruise that was already starting to purple underneath her left eye. Looked like Bowers had decked her a good one when she fought back or tried to. "You okay, Eds?" she whispered, keeping her voice low, quiet.

"N-no," he breathed out shakily, hating hearing the tremor in his voice, and though his hands were bound, he couldn't seem to control the incessant shaking in his hands. Eddie let out a soft exhale as Beverly crouched into a seated position, wrapping her arms around her knees, grateful that her dress had long skirts, though that didn't stop Bowers from shooting an interested glance her way. If it bothered her though, she ignored it. Eddie wished he were as brave.

The pair fell silent and had to crane their necks up from their places on the cold basement floor, hoping to catch every word of Henry and Patrick's talk.

Henry had pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and let out a heavy sigh. When he spoke to Hockstedder, he sounded pissed off.

"We can have our fun with 'em without being fuckin' faggots like Kaspbrak," he growled, shooting a dark look at Eddie that Beverly returned.

Patrick scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm no queer," he growled, narrowing his eyes, and glaring at the older teen he considered a friend.

"No?" retorted Henry hotly. "Then why you fuckin' acting like a goddamned pervert?" he growled, leaning in so the tip of his nose was almost touching Patrick's. "I get it. Out of all those fucking losers, these two are the worst. Kaspbrak's got a little face and gay demeanor that makes you wanna punch him, an' Marsh over here has put out for just about every guy in Derry, 'cept for us, so it's only natural we'd want a turn," he snarled, looking at Bev.

She swallowed hard, but made no smartass comment, for which Eddie was grateful. He was afraid that if she did, it would only make things worse for them.

"Like it or not, though we're older than these punks by a couple years, these two aren't legal adults yet. Not till eighteen, and these two assholes don't turn eighteen for another few fuckin' months, so calm your goddamn erection for God's sake," he snapped. "They're still minors, and I'm not gonna get fuckin' arrested in my own goddamn house for perverted sex shit. My dad catches me doin' the shit you're into, an' I'm dead. Go home," he snarled.

Beverly and Eddie watched, astonished, as Patrick's chest seemed to puff out in anger, but under the wrathful murderous glare of his friend, he gave a curt nod and without so much as a word turned on the heel of his boot and stormed up the stairwell of Henry's basement, cursing under his breath. Eddie and Bev both breathed inaudible sighs of relief as Patrick left.

Eddie flinched as he heard the front door of Bowers' house slam shut above their heads. He swallowed nervously as Henry shook his head in disgust and looked down his nose at Beverly and Eddie, where they sat huddled in the corner up against the wall, looking utterly lost and helpless as for what to do.

Down here, they had no sense of what time of day it was, how many hours had passed, if any of their friends or family had noticed if they were missing yet.

The kidnapping of the two Losers had been over in a matter of mere seconds. Bowers and the others had taken them when most were at their jobs, so no one saw a thing. Or if they did, no one dared report it. Derry was just that kind of town, where even if they saw someone in trouble, unless you were a cop and got paid to do it, no one stepped in to stop or help. The town was cursed.

At least, that's what Eddie and the other Losers believed, especially since dealing with the fucking clown five years ago. Eddie swallowed nervously at the thought of IT coming back or waking up early. The clown had said it would sleep for the next twenty or so years before needing to wake up again.

Personally, he hoped that it had slunk into a dank corner in the sewers beneath the Neibolt House where IT lived, and fucking died of starvation or a disease.

No one had heard Beverly's muffled screams coming from inside Henry's room, no one was alarmed in any way. Their kidnappers knew these two well.

Kidnapping someone for Henry had been a first, and he was honestly kind of surprised at how easy it was. He'd just…picked 'em up and taken them both.

Henry looked down at Beverly, who was the only one seemingly so far brave enough out of all the other Losers except maybe Stuttering Bill to meet his eyes. She was tiny just like Kaspbrak, just like a little doll. Marsh couldn't have been over 5'5. 5'4, tops, and the top of her head barely came up to Henry's chest. As he turned his gaze towards Eddie, he was astonished to see that the girl had seemingly fallen asleep, her head lolled against Girly Boy's thin shoulder.

Henry blinked a couple of times, unsure if what he was seeing was real. How the hell this bitch could sleep at a time like this when they were both being held captive here in his basement, alone, with just Henry for company, was beyond him. Henry was honestly kind of surprised that the Slut wasn't screaming and crying, begging, groveling on her knees in front of him, pleading to go free.

At the mental image of the pretty redhead on her knees in front of Henry, he felt the warm familiar ache blooming in his chest and causing pain in his groin. He never _did_ get to finish what he started earlier, thanks to his fucking father coming home a little earlier than Henry had anticipated that he would.

Henry let out a low growl from the back of his throat as he knelt down slowly in front of Eddie and Beverly, his gaze fixated on Bev, but the minute he heard Kaspbrak let out a pitiful whimper of fear, he felt the familiar fire spark of anger well deep within his chest. "I could fuckin' kill you both, you know…"

"P-please don't, Henry," pleaded Eddie, and just the whiny, nasally sound of Kaspbrak's begging only fueled Bowers' rage even further and he let out a pained yelp as Henry ploughed his fist into Eddie's stomach. Eddie hadn't protested when Beverly had shockingly fallen asleep against his shoulder just now.

He had figured it was probably due to the stress and taxation of being kidnapped that caused her to pass out, and there was a big part of him that wished that he could do. Then he wouldn't be awake for whatever Henry was planning to do to them and would hopefully sleep through the worst of it all.

Part of Eddie had wished that Beverly would have run away the minute Bowers' and his crew pulled up in their car and gotten away while she could, save herself, and he could deal with Henry and his goons on his own, but a stronger, more selfish part of his fragile mind was grateful that Beverly hadn't left his side during this whole ordeal. Besides, if Bowers tried to hurt Bev, then Eddie might—just might—be able to save her from the worst of Henry's rage.

Bev, Eddie knew, only from what limited information he had on his friend, had spent most of her childhood prior to meeting the other Loser's that fateful summer when she was thirteen, had spent most of her life up to this point alone.

She could have really used a friend, and she had made several when she became the first and only girl to join the Loser's Club and was now invaluable.

And the thought of allowing Bev to go through something traumatic and horrifying like this all by herself, with no friends to support her in any way, was truly frightening, and for that, at least, if they had to suffer, Eddie was glad they'd suffer together, and hopefully since he'd kidnapped both and not just one, whatever Bowers had in mind for the two of them wouldn't be so damn bad.

Henry smirked as he reached out a hand and poked at Beverly's ribcage. She stirred, her eyes fluttering behind closed lids, and she mumbled something, but didn't wake. Frowning, he poked her again, even harder this time, and that did it.

Henry and Eddie watched in silence as Beverly bolted upright, waking up from her sleep as if it were an emergency, as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing, which Eddie knew, as long as they were trapped down here, it had been.

If they slept, they wouldn't be able to tell what Henry had planned for the two of them, or the more important part: how to get the fuck out of here and go for help. They couldn't let Henry get away with this. They had to tell _someone_.

Beverly blinked owlishly a couple of times as she struggled to focus her hazy gaze a few feet in front of herself.

The harsh reality of her situation settled in when she glanced to her left and saw Eddie tied and bound in a similar manner as she was, and then she remembered.

"Fuck," she whispered, glancing at Henry, who was still maintaining his crouched position in front of them both.

"Glad to see you awake, bitch. Was starting to think I'd have to fuckin' tell you all my house rules all over again," Henry growled, no warmth in his voice.

Bev grimaced and gingerly flexed her wrists, wincing at the raw, bloodied skin where the zip ties had dug into the flesh of her inner wrists. It really hurt.

She wished Bowers would cut the damn things off Eddie's wrists too. Beverly swallowed the lump forming in her throat and let out a pained wince as Henry violently grabbed her wrist and yanked her upright to her feet.

"Hey!" she whined as he pulled her back by her arm, "Get the fuck off of me, you piece of shit! Let me go!" Beverly shouted as she struggled against him.

"Now c'mon, babe, don't be like that," Henry growled, shooting a warning look to Eddie, as Kaspbrak had opened his mouth to tell him to cut it out. Eddie promptly closed his mouth and fell silent, bowing his head in defeat. "We never got to finish what we started upstairs, baby doll. Don't you wanna try me, for a change? Ain't no way all those other fuckin' losers can keep you satisfied, huh?"

"Let go of me, Bowers. Get that finger out of my face before I jam it straight up your _ass_ ," Beverly growled back in response, but couldn't shrug out of his grip and she let out a muffled yelp as Henry violently shoved her against one of the shelves, letting out a scream as a watering can and what looked like a tin of old gardening supplies clattered to the floor with a loud clang at her feet.

"Stop this, Bowers, please!" Eddie wailed, and he realized it was too late to take back what he had said, and he let out a harsh shrill cry as Henry drew back his hand and backhanded Beverly across her other, unmarked cheek this time.

"One more word outta you, Girly Boy, an' I start cuttin' up this bitch. I'd hate to ruin her pretty little face, so don't make me do it, but if you mouth off again an' keep whinin' I'm gonna destroy her face an' make her one ugly whore…"

Beverly shook her head, the tiniest of nods in Eddie's direction. He had such a look of fear mingled with outrage on his face that if this were any other normal situation, Bev and the other Losers might have laughed at his expression.

But laughing was the last thing that Beverly felt like doing right now. She blinked back the onset of briny tears and swallowed hard past the frog in her throat.

"Bowers, fuck off and let me go. You know this isn't fucking right…"

Henry threw back his head and let out a short laugh that sounded more like a dog's bark than a human laughing. It chilled Beverly's insides and rendered her blood cold. "No, I don't think so, dollface."

"Henry, c'mon man, just fucking let us go," pleaded Eddie pitifully, his bottom lip quivering as he cowered in the corner. "I—I swear to God, we aren't gonna tell anyone what happened here if you let us go, right, Bev?" he asked.

The look of heartbreak in Eddie's eyes was almost too much for Bev to bear. She let out a haggard shaking breath and forced herself to try to remain calm. "Yeah." Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "We won't tell."

Beverly hissed as she felt Henry's palm graze against the skin of her collarbones and his hand wandered underneath her dress and rested against the cup of her black bra and gave it a harsh squeeze.

"C'mon," he whispered into the shell of her ear. "You know you wanna try me out for a change, Slut. You're a fuckin' tease, Marsh. I know what kinda bitch you are. Got all the guys in town all hot'n bothered over you cause of your looks, but no guy 'cept for our former Fat Boy Hanscom wants to pay attention to you. They know what you are, what you're like, how you've done every guy in town, cept for me and my boys. That don't frustrate you at all, not to have…sampled all the goods, huh? I know I fuckin' hate it when a bitch leads me on. You seemed like you were havin' so much _fun_ upstairs till our little party got…interrupted by my dad," he growled.

"Henry…." Eddie moaned, but Bowers ignored Kaspbrak's pleas.

"Eds, it's gonna be okay," Beverly called out, looking numbly over Henry's shoulder at her friend, though the listless expression in her blue eyes suggested otherwise, which kind of made Henry mad.

He wanted the bitch to _enjoy_ what was about to come next. He let out a growl and shoved her against the wall even harder.

She winced as she heard a muscle near her back crack, but nothing felt broken. It was definitely pulled, though, and probably going to bruise later on.

"No, it won't, Girly Boy, an' if you know what's good for you, you'll shut the fuck up. I stopped Pat from raping your pathetic little ass, but if you keep sayin' shit to piss me off, I might just call him back here and let him take you. He'll jam his dick straight up your ass and I'll watch while you scream and cry like the girl you are," Henry retorted violently, swiveling his head back around to meet Bev's horrified stare, her lips parted slightly, and his grip on Beverly's arm tightened. "You come on strong to guys, babe. You can't do that to guys if you're not interested in them, you know, sweetheart?" he sighed, sounding like he was immensely disappointed in her. Bowers reached up and tenderly toyed with a lock of her red hair and brushed it back behind her slender shoulder.

Bev shook her head vehemently and tugged uselessly at her trapped arms. "Let go of me, Bowers, you worthless piece of shit! You motherfucking little maggot! Witless worm!" she shouted.

Though her voice dripped with poisonous venom, it shook slightly. She was ordinarily able to get her way by getting people, especially guys to listen to her, but Henry didn't seem so fazed by her threats. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it when she talked trash like this to him right now.

"Scream all the fuck you want. Ain't nobody gonna hear you. It's just you, me and these walls," Henry snorted, looking like he was trying not to laugh.

"You piece of shit, let us go! Please…" Bev swallowed, hating hearing the dip in her voice and how it cracked and wavered on the use of the word please.

Bowers wasn't fazed at all.

"Hold fuckin' still, Molly Ringwald," Henry breathed into the shell of her ear as he leaned in, pressing in so that he ensured she could feel his hard, lean body against hers through the material of her dress, pushing his hand further up her thigh, completely ignoring Beverly's pitiful attempts to claw at his hand.

With a frustrated whimper of fear and pain, Beverly fought against Henry's strong grip. He was way stronger than she was, his grip large and really forceful.

"S—stop!" she gasped, as Henry's hands wandered beneath the skirts of her maxi wrap dress, hating that her dress had the slit in the front and allowed for easy access, as his hands gripped onto the material of her underwear, tugging at the thin cotton material and tried to pull them down her legs. "Get off of me!"

"Henry, for fuck's sake, don't fucking do this!" screamed Eddie, who was practically hyperventilating now, never mind his asthma attack. He seemed to have eyes only for Beverly. "I swear to God, whatever you w-want with us, we'll—we'll get it for you? I-if it's money you want, we'll get it. Hell, you can...you can take me with to the ATM and we'll get you your fucking money if that's what you want out of us, I don't give a shit anymore! Don't do this to Bev, man, please! Just let her go!" he pleaded, the tears pouring freely down his face now as he choked and spluttered, struggling to regain what air that he could into his asthmatic lungs.

"Shut the fuck up," Henry snarled, not even looking at Eddie as he said it. "I ain't done with her yet. I'll let you both go as soon as I'm done," he growled. He began pawing at her chest, groping, and squeezing her breast. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, slut? Try to be nice to you assholes, an' get nothin' in return," Henry hissed. "You didn't appreciate my…kindness, so fuck you, bitch."

Beverly exhaled slowly, feeling her shoulders slump in relief, and it was that simple gesture, was enough to send Henry over the edge.

He finally let go of her breast, moving his hand down to her thighs, attempting to pry them apart.

With a frustrated exhale, Henry loomed over her. "I'm gettin' real sick of this fast, Marsh. You're just a little bitch from the slums who's got a lot more fight in you than I thought. Tell ya what, dollface. Why don't you do your part and you can give me a blowjob and I'll call it even. I'll let you and Sissy Boy, go. Hell," he grinned wickedly, and Beverly shivered in fear.

His smile was evil. Wicked, even for Henry, and that was saying something.

"If you ask me _nicely_ , I might even drive you back home an' not make you walk the streets after dark. If you walk back, I guarantee you're gonna meet up with that weird pervert who's been stealin' kids, and you two losers will be next." Henry let out a growl as Beverly let out a pained whimper, her head lowered.

Bowers forcefully cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her head upward, forcing Marsh to meet his gaze, which was rapidly growing angrier the longer he talked.

"HENRY!" screamed Eddie, who was practically beside himself with panicked fear. "Don't fucking do this! Please!"

Bowers ignored Eddie's screams, waving them away with an irritable brush of his hand, drowning out Eddie's pitiful sobs for help. "No one's coming, Girly Boy."

"Henry..." Bev started to say, but her voice trailed off as she looked into Bowers' eyes and saw nothing in them but pure anger.

He grinned, and stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb, a gesture that made Bev flinch, but she did not dare look away. "Now, babe, we don't gotta make this difficult. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Easy way. You don't fight me on this, bitch, and you let me fuck you, or…."

Here, he turned his wrathful gaze towards Eddie, who gulped and nervously tried to look at Beverly, at anything but at Henry Bowers. " _Or_ ," he continued with emphasis, "I'm gonna start cutting him."

"N-no," she whimpered hoarsely, continuing to shake her head no, and stifled a cry from the back of her throat as she felt Henry's strong hand push her onto the ground, forcing her into a kneeling position on her knees in front of him.

As soon as she was on the ground, when Henry reached up a hand to stroke at her hair and pull her closer towards him, Beverly started thrashing and fighting. No fucking way she was gonna let Bowers pull this kind of shit on her, threats or not.

"Let go of me, Henry, you sick fucking pervert!" she yelled, attempting to get to her feet to try to bolt for Eddie so she could grab him and try to make a run for the back cellar door, though it was probably locked tight.

Oh, Bev would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't scared about what he would do to Eddie if she didn't cooperate, but she was more terrified of what was going to happen if she _did_. She couldn't let either one of them get hurt.

Henry pawed at her arm and squeezed her shoulder, leaving painful bruises with his strong grip. Bev continued to try to stand up and fight back, tears pouring down her cheeks in a steady endless stream.

"Goddamn it, stop fucking moving, bitch! If you'd hold still and cooperate, it ain't gonna hurt you, but if you keep fighting me, I'll give you something to cry about, you stupid fucking whore. I ain't gonna hurt you unless you make me. I never wanna hurt you. You know that right, Marsh?" Henry bellowed, raising his hand, and backhanding her across the cheek.

That had to be what, the third time in the span of an hour? If he kept this shit up, she'd have a permanent welt in the shape of Henry's handprint on her cheek. He growled and grabbed a fistful of her red hair and violently yanked it back.

Bev whimpered and forced her body to relax, trying to drown out Eddie's pitiful sobs and screams as he pleaded for Bowers to stop this shit and let them go. "It's no use, Eds," she whispered hoarsely, though she doubted he heard her.

Henry was way too strong for her to overpower, and if by some God given fucking miracle that she _did_ manage to find a way to escape and grab Eddie, Henry was fast.

He might not look it, by the kind of lumbering way he walked sometimes, more like a football player would, but the fucking creep was _fast_.

The way his nostrils flared angrily as he glowered down at Bev from where she knelt on the floor in front of him, groveling at his feet like he was her god, reminded Beverly of an angry bull, and she knew there was no way out of this.

As she was forced to kneel in front of Bowers, the cold cement stone floor digging into her kneecaps through the material of her dress, with Henry's strong hands coming up to grip onto either of her shoulders, and his threats of what he'd let Hockstedder do to Eddie if she didn't fuck him lingered in her mind.

"Fuck me," she whispered, and she winced as she realized Henry heard her.

He grinned and picked up a lock of her red hair and toyed with it. "You got it, babe. Since you asked so politely. Trust me. You're gonna just fuckin' _love_ me you won't go back to Hanscom, doll."

Beverly swallowed at the hungry look of lust in Bowers' eyes. She knew she was going to have to just endure this, like or not, but if she let him do whatever he fucking wanted to her, maybe, just maybe, they'd make it out of this alive and Henry would keep true to his word (fat chance!) and let them go. It wasn't likely, but still.

It was all she needed now.

That one little shred of hope that Henry might have an ounce of good somewhere buried deep down within him. Her body felt frozen and it felt like her lungs could simply not get enough air.

She wondered if this was how Eddie felt whenever he suffered through one of his attacks. Bev glanced over at Eddie.

Poor guy looked like he was close to passing out from stress. He was heaving trying to catch his breath, and his face was ashen and clammy, and beads of sweat had formed on his brow, and his maroon t shirt was drenched in sweat.

Beverly felt a horrible tingling sensation spread throughout her entire body as she watched Henry's hands fumble with his belt buckle on his jeans.

She felt like she was going to throw up or pass out at any moment, and she didn't know which was worse. She'd never felt so fucking terrified in all her life.

_Even Daddy never made me do anything like this_ , she thought, horrified.

She let out a sharp cry and clenched her eyes shut, trying to brace herself for what came next. Beverly had foolishly thought that she could handle Bowers on her own.

She'd done it successfully in the past and hadn't thought this morning on their way to school any fucking different.

But she knew now as she looked into his eyes that he was wrong. She winced as Bowers pulled out his switchblade and flicked it open, holding it up dangerously close in front of her face, and pressed the tip of his blade into the column of her throat.

Bev was completely and one hundred percent at Henry's mercy. There was no other way out of this except to do what he said, and pray he didn't kill them.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bowers, is the knife really fucking necessary? I—I mean you kinda have things handled without that, don't you?" she pleaded desperately.

"Shut the fuck up, Marsh," Henry growled, grabbing another fistful of her red hair, and tugging on it. Beverly let out a half-choked sob and a whimper.

Bev squeezed her eyes tight shut and bit down on her bottom lip hard enough that she could taste blood forming. Good. Maybe if she had a bloody lip Henry wouldn't make her do this.

She let out a pained wince as she felt Henry's strong hand grip onto her shoulder and yank her forward, and she felt the skin on her kneecaps get rubbed raw from the sheer brutality and force of the gesture.

She exhaled slowly and prepared herself for the worst of it. She hoped she wasn't making a big fucking mistake by doing this, but if it meant she and Eddie could get the fuck out of here…then she would have to do it, but god, she didn't want to. Beverly was starting to wonder if Bowers was worse than IT.

Bev opened her eyes and through the cloudy haze in her vision that still sent swells of pain throughout her head, as she met Henry's gaze, she knew.

That he was.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Strong hands pushed Beverly into the wall in front of her. It stung, and sent swells of pain throughout her entire body, which already ached and screamed for relief from Henry's earlier beatings. His chin rested on her left shoulder, and she winced as he breathed into the shell of her ear, his breathing kind of erratic and fast. Bev opened her mouth to ask him what the fuck Henry thought he was doing, when Bowers' lips clamped down onto her ears, more importantly, her left, where she'd just gotten her new industrial piercing less than a month ago.

The thing was still healing, so what he was doing really fucking hurt. His lips were light at first, and then Henry bit down harder, eliciting a sharp cry from her. Bev squirmed against the wall and cringed as his teeth turned into a tongue.

It slid over the rim of her now bleeding ear and caused poor Bev to cry out. His strong two hands slid down her sides, stopping just above the knot of her wrap maxi dress near the dress's bodice. Bev inhaled a sharp breath, not knowing what to do. She really hoped this was a cruel joke, a bad nightmare.

Henry had finished with her, claiming Marsh had performed like a champ, and now, it seemed he was done with her. These bitches were all the same to him, so goddamned needy and whining about something or other, though there was no denying that Beverly Marsh was a beautiful girl and a fine piece of ass. So easy. Bowers laid his hands around Bev's neck and squeezed hard to give her a choke, watching in grim satisfaction as her blue eyes widened with shock.

"Bowers, fucking quit it!" screamed Eddie, near the point of hysterics now.

Henry ignored Kaspbrak who'd done nothing but break down into tears in the corner of his dad's basement, swiveled his hand back around to meet Bev. Her hands had come to pitifully claw at Henry's strong hand around her throat. Bev's lips parted slightly. Her legs moved as he felt himself lift her strongly off the ground, panicked, put as he was in the zone, Henry did not move at all, his climax was only minutes away the longer the Marsh girl continued to fight him. As his pleasure increased with each shallow half thrust as he forced himself inside her, so did his grip on her throat. Beverly's eyes closed and her head lolled. His coarse whisky tongue licked at her skin; stubby fingers curled in her hair.

Every time Beverly closed her eyes, he bashed her head backward onto the concrete floor, demanding she open them. She didn't want to, she closed them over and over, anything rather than watch his face lit up with power and lust. He became angry, his force less controlled, until finally blood ran from the back of her head onto the ground and her head lolled like a doll. The man was finished anyway.

He snorted and whispered close to her butterfly stud blue earrings, "Knocked out is better anyway, great ride, slut, can't wait to do it again," and grabbed a fistful of her red hair and pulled on it hard. That's what he wanted. He let out a roar as he finished, riding out the aftershock of his release inside the condom he'd swiped from the box he'd stolen out of her bag in shallow half-thrust.

Letting out a final gasp, he dismounted, and shoved her violently backward in the corner, already totally done with Beverly.

"That wasn't so bad, was it, bitch?" he growled, barely sparing Marsh a second glance as he headed upstairs to shower. "Be back in a little while with food for you brats. Gotta think of what to do next," he breathed, his voice sounding distant and muffled, though it did not stop him from kneeling down at Beverly and Eddie's eye level and lunging at Bev.

She winced as Henry's lips moved down to her neck and bit at the tender skin of her throat. Bev bit her bottom lip and kept her eyes clenched tight, knowing that this was going to suck hard. Her skin bruised so goddamn easily, she knew it would make a mark, and then by the time she got home, assuming Henry didn't kill them both and leave their bodies in the woods or in a ditch somewhere, her daddy would find out about it and ask her questions about it, and then he'd be _pissed_.

It seemed like Henry knew that too. His lips began to suck at the skin furiously, until Bev let out a noise of panic and stopped. "What?" he growled.

"It _hurts_!" she whined, biting her bottom lip hard enough that she felt the blood from her teeth begin to well at the wound site, and it was enough to elicit a low growl from Henry and shove her backwards violently. She stumbled, not having anticipated such a violent move from Bowers, and she collapsed to the floor and scrambled away from him, back to where Eddie cowered in the corner. Bev coughed and gagged at what Henry had just done to her, doubled over and retching, though nothing was coming out.

"You might have enjoyed it better if you hadn't been actin' like a goddamned fucking little bitch, if you hadn't fuckin' panicked, Marsh," her assailant noted in a dangerously low voice, whispering it into his latest conquest's ear. "But I'm gonna come back for you, Bevvy. I ain't gonna disappoint you, slut. I been waiting a _long_ fuckin' time to sample your goods. I gotta tell you, your tits are amazing, and you know how to show a guy a good time. And now that I have, I think I like you, so I'm gonna keep you down here, I think, Marshy. You'll be my little pet. I'm gonna find time to finish this, you bitch."

Shaking her head and letting out a pained sob, Beverly clenched her eyes shut as swells of nausea coursed through her veins. She thought she was going to throw up.

Henry barely acknowledged Bev or Eddie as he adjusted the belt buckle of his jeans and stormed upstairs, announcing to the pair in a deadpan voice he was going to shower, but he'd be back in a little bit with water and some food for the two of them.

Bev felt hot tears prick at the corner of her eyes, blurring and stinging her vision. This…this could not be real life. She barely stifled a half-choked little sob as she heard the door of the basement door lock as Henry turned the key, and unless they could find something with which to pick the lock of either that door or make a break for the back cellar door or bust the window and climb out that way, the two of them were trapped.

"W—we're fucked, aren't we, Bev?" Eddie whispered desperately, scooting closer to Bev, and rubbing small circles on the small of her back. "D—did he h-hurt you?" he said.

She coughed, a hand over her throat where Eddie could see his finger markings, red against white, against the column of Beverly's throat, and even he winced. "Shit…"

"I—is it bad?" she choked out, still gasping and heaving, trying to catch her breath. Bev, to some extent, could not believe the shit that Bowers had just put her through.

She felt the heat slowly dissipate from between her legs as she huddled against the wall, wildly looking to her left and right for a way out. Her black bag was all the way over on the other side. Bev let out a choking sob as she started to crawl towards it, an arm outstretched, but to her relief and surprise, Eddie scrambled towards it and brought it back before she could so much as move forward another inch, for which she was relieved.

What Henry had done to her, no one should have to go through, and Bev decided that no matter what, they couldn't fucking _stay_ here and wait for Henry to kill them both.

But why then, if she knew the two of them needed to escape before Bowers came back, couldn't she move? It felt like her legs were full of jelly, and her brain had turned to mush. Usually, she prided herself on being smart and the one in the Loser's Club aside from Bill and Ben to rationally think their way out of a problem whenever one presented itself, but this, what Henry Bowers had just fucking done to her was inexcusable.

Beverly let out a shudder as a jolt of fear traveled down her spine. She clutched her midriff, curling into herself and covering her mouth with her hands as a pained little sob forced its way from the back of her throat. She had no fucking idea what to do.

_Have to get out. But how? Front door is locked. We might be able to pick the lock of the back cellar door. But they'd need something_. And then…Beverly got an idea.

"M-my bag, Eds," she choked, blinking back her tears, though she didn't stop them from silently cascading in gentle tracts down her pale cheeks. "H—hand it to me, please."

Eddie mutely tossed her little black bag into her lap, he had never seen Bev sit like that, so deflated. Her loose shoulders shook, her hands hanging low, making no attempt to conceal or even wipe away her own tears. Aside from her reddened face she was so gray looking, and her red hair was as disheveled as the park under fall leaves. He had seen others cry like that and in every case, it was a transition from a person with hope to one without.

It was how Bill had cried in the sewers beneath the Neibolt House when the fucking clown had conjured an image of his dead brother, Georgie; it was how his mom cried the day her husband, Eddie's dad, passed from cancer.

It's a kind of crying that shows the child underneath, that the hurt cut right back through the protective layers acquired in maturity. Beverly cried like there was too much raw pain inside her to be contained. She cried like her spirit needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release an elemental rage on the world. The soothing words of her friend made no difference at all. Beverly was beyond all reason, beyond all natural methods of calming.

"I—it's gonna be okay," Eddie whispered, though he didn't even believe it himself. "We're gonna…we're gonna get outta here, a—and we gotta get you to a hospital."

Beverly nodded, though it did not reach her eyes as she sniffed once or twice, wiping away the last of her tears with an angry flick of her wrist. "We can't stay here and wait for that fucker to come back," she growled, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

"How can we get outta here?" Eddie demanded, careful to keep his voice low, in case Henry decided to come back, though they could hear his noisy footballs above, the creaking of the floorboards beneath their heads as Bowers padded noisily through his

"I don't know, just…just let me think for a second. We're not going to die here. W—we're gonna…we're gonna get out of here, Eddie," she whispered through gritted teeth, clenching her jaw and her eyes shut, as waves of nausea washed over her.

Beverly knew she was the one who should be making the decisions. She was the one who said yes or no, but instead, she was the one who had eaten up all of Henry's lies.

Swallowing mouth after mouth as his fingers had grazed her skin and he barely let her breathe as he was the one who had pushed it back down. The word _no_ had struggled, fighting to escape her mouth as Bowers had shoved his fucking wormy tongue down it.

The word hadn't been able to escape and neither did Beverly. The silent tears had run down her cheeks and he had whisper-hissed into her ear not to cry or he would cut her.

He was wrong. No was not yes in disguise. Bowers didn't fucking know what Bev had meant when Beverly had yelled at Henry for him to get his grubby hands off of her.

Bowers, the fucking creep that he was, claimed that a bitch like Beverly was sending him mixed messages when she wore a dress and sandals like the ones she was currently wearing, yet still said no, and he had fucked her anyways, and had forced poor Eds to watch. He had told her, practically shouted it into the shell of her ear, that Marsh had wanted it. Saying that Beverly had asking for it, given she had a reputation as a whore.

Henry had said that she wanted it. That she was asking for it. And…the damaged part of Beverly's subconscious hated her for it, that small part that felt like she believed Henry.

Eddie could feel the restraints of the plastic zip ties digging into his wrists and rope around his ankles.

From the high window of Henry's dad's basement came a rectangle of moonlight, sending the white moonbeams to illuminate the nasty grime and show the dust that swirled in the air that would wreak havoc onto his allergies. He gagged at the thought of all the germs down here, and fumbled for his inhaler in his hoodie's pocket, bringing the aspirator to his lips and taking a puff or two, willing his breathing to calm down.

"The window," he breathed, jerking his head towards the window, and the cellar door. If he and Beverly could reach it, they could find out exactly where Henry lived.

And how to get the hell back home, or at the very least to an area where their stupid little cheap emergency flip cell phones would get reception, enough to call for help.

Eddie winced, shifting his hands. He knew how to get his hands free, he just didn't relish doing it and hoped that as he watched Beverly rummage through that little black bag of hers, that she could find something to cut these damn things off with, and maybe even something to pick the lock of the door, so they could sneak out quietly and avoid getting caught. It was a better option than breaking the window and making noise and risk Henry getting even more pissed at them and tracking them down at a later time.

But still…if she _didn't_ have anything in that bag to free his wrists with, Eddie cringed, knowing he'd have to find another way out of these damn things. Enough pressure in the right spot would break his thumb, and he might be able to wiggle out of the restraints and they could make a break for it. "Got it!" whispered Beverly, unable to keep the note of excitement from creeping into her voice as she pulled a bobby pin out of one of the zippered front pockets of her bag and began to un-do it, so it was a straight pin. "Here."

Eddie held out his hands and cupped the bobby pin in his hands, and watched, amazed, as she pulled a tiny compact pocket knife out of her bag and cut off the zip ties in one fluid motion, before plunking the tiny weapon back into her bag. "We coulda used that," he growled, though he wasn't irritated with Bev. He knew it wasn't her fault.

Beverly shot Eddie an apologetic look. "I know," she said mournfully, "b-but with Hockstedder down here and then Bowers, I—I didn't want to risk pissing them off."

The young redhead tossed her wavy red hair over her shoulders, standing shakily to her feet, using the wall as a brace, her other hand clutched tightly onto Eddie's for support as he helped her to stand. "C'mon, let's blow this fucking trash heap and get out of here," she urged, raising a finger to her lips, signaling for Eddie to be quiet as much as possible.

He watched as Beverly pointed a finger towards the cellar door, and then again to the bobby pin Eddie still held clutched tightly in his hands, clinging to the little thing that might very well be their ticket and lifeline out of here and away from Henry Bowers.

Eddie took a deep breath to steel his nerves, wincing as he fumbled the little pin in his hands, which were shaking and the skin of his inner wrists rubbed raw and bleeding, just like Beverly's were. He exhaled slowly through his nose and shakily inserted the pin into the lock and began to wiggle it.

Eddie could practically hear Beverly inhale sharply, her breath catching in her throat as the cellar door made a horrible creaking noise as the door swung open, and the pin in the lock gave a loud clicking noise, and a gust of chilly wind blew through the basement. "Hurry," he urged, stowing the pin in his jeans pocket in case they needed it for something else. He was going to have to remember that next time he needed to pick a lock, though he sincerely hoped that there wouldn't be a next time.

Beverly gave a curt little nod and double checked her little black bag as she swung it diagonally across her body, making sure she had her wallet and all the stuff that Henry had dumped out at her feet earlier. If they had left any shred of evidence behind that Butch Bowers were to find and later come to the conclusion that Henry had kidnapped the two of them and severely punished Henry for it as a result, well…she didn't doubt Henry's word, that he would hunt them down and kill every last one of them in the Loser's Club.

Bev inhaled a cold breath of air as she ascended the last step of the Bowers' cellar and stepped out into the cool night air of Henry's back yards. The woods weren't that far off, they could make for the woods and as long as they continued going east, they'd hit Eddie's neighborhood first, and even though they all knew Sonia Kaspbrak hated Bev with a passion hotter than the fucking sun itself, that she would always help her Eddie Bear, and hopefully, she could at least give them a car ride to the nearest hospital.

She felt her fingers curl into an instinctive protective fist over the strap of her bag as she exhaled through her nose slowly, willing her breaths to calm down and regulate back to something that resembled normal. If they could just make for the woods and keep quiet, they'd be fucking free. Beverly brought her finger to her lips again, and Eddie nodded, though not before grabbing the hand that wasn't wrapped tight around her bag's strap and hanging onto hers as though his very life depended on it, which she knew it did.

The two friends headed for the woods, creeping quietly through Bowers' back yard as best they could, when an ear-shattering roar split through the otherwise silent night air.

"Oh fuck," moaned Beverly. _Bowers_. Not even bothering to glance behind them, she broke into a run, cringing at the thought of her brand new sandals getting ruined, really wishing she would have thought to wear sneakers, but no time to dwell on that now.

Eddie grabbed her hand and bolted for the woods, also not bothering to look back. If they looked back and didn't move fast, then they were sitting ducks and fucking dead.

"Run!" he screamed, his breathing coming in small, short spurts, hot and nervous. At his side, the hand not clutching onto Beverly's arm dragging her behind him as she coughed and struggled to keep up, her energy still drained from what Bowers had done to her earlier, was taking its toll, though Eddie knew if they didn't make it to the woods, Bowers would kill them. At least in the woods, they stood a good chance of losing him.

He reluctantly let go of Beverly's hand, knowing that he could run faster if he didn't have to drag her along too, and he shot her a quick, panicked glance and she nodded.

Eddie's fists swung forward as though he thought that would make him run faster.

Behind them, he could hear the baying howl of Bowers as his footsteps clambered up the steps, and the horrible clanging of what sounded like a metal tray and glass breaking filled their eardrums. No doubt Henry had at very least made good on his promise to bring them food and had probably dropped the tray when he'd realized they'd escaped.

"Holy Shit Almighty, oh fuck, please Jesus, let us live," Eddie screamed out loud, no longer caring if anyone heard him, throwing himself forward with even greater abandon, and he was relieved to see Beverly do the same and was trying hard to match his pace.

His lungs and heart were pumping, his asthma screaming and begging Eddie for just one puff of his inhaler, but if he paused even for a second, Henry would get them both.

But still, the air didn't seem to be enough as Eddie sprinted forwards towards the edge of the wood, panic trembling in his exhausted limbs. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, exhausted. His long legs broke out from beneath him as he reached the wood's edge, feeling minorly triumphant as he realized that they had actually fucking made it out.

His heart still racing, he turned towards Beverly and froze. "Oh, fuck me, _why_?" he shouted, screaming it at the top of his lungs, frustrated and afraid beyond comprehension.

Beverly had fallen behind, too weak to carry on, though she was still trying to catch up, panting and gasping for breath, one hand weakly clutching at her ribcage. " _Hurry_!" Eddie screamed, spittle flying from his lips as he watched Bowers close off the gap of space. If she could just make it, they knew these woods better than Henry, having played in them and near the barrens and quarry when they were younger, and could lose him.

Beverly panted, her lungs heaving and straining for air. These stupid fucking sandals were no good to her now. As she kicked them off, her heart rate beat faster and the adrenaline demanded that she run towards where Eddie stood, desperately shifting his weight, and hopping from one foot to the other as he screamed at his friend to hurry.

But unless she could get these stupid shoes off, then she wouldn't be able to. Bev wished to God she had thought to worn sneakers, but it was too late for that now.

She flung off her shoes finally, breathing a temporary sigh of relief as the cold, wet, near-winter mud kissed her now-bare soles of her feet and she pitched forward into the darkness, haring for the edge of the woods that was now less than a hundred feet away.

Then she heard the catcalls, Henry was right on her tail. She prayed wildly for someone—anyone—to come back, one of Bowers' neighbors and spot them running. A dog walker, someone letting their dog or cat out at night, even taking out the trash.

But this was Derry. The town where no one cared, even if they _did_ see it happening.

Before Beverly even knew she had made the conscious decision to scream, her voice rent the night country air and the desperation laced through it scared the hell out of her. She sounded like someone in a bit part B rated horror movie, who spent more time splattered with fake blood than acting. She kept her gaze fixated on Eddie's panicked stare, every step closer towards Kaspbrak and the woods was vital to both of their freedoms.

Then she felt Henry's strong hand grasp at the back of her dress, this time he got her. "Where ya goin', bitch?" he growled. "The fun was _just_ getting started," Bowers whisper-hissed it into the shell of her ear. A jostling noise from behind him startled Beverly as he clamped a gloved hand over her mouth as she stared at him, wide-eyed and terrified. Bowers' gaze flitted towards Eddie, who had frozen, totally lost as to what to do.

"Bowers, fucking let her go!" screamed Eddie desperately, his voice doing that high-pitched squeaky thing that it usually did as it rose an octave whenever he was pissed off.

That rustling noise that startled Beverly turned out to be the backpack Bowers wore on his back, and Beverly felt her heart give a painful lurch and a pit began uncomfortably forming in her stomach. Henry leaned in close, his hot breath wafting in front of her face.

"If you and Girly Boy play nice," he growled, whispering it into the shell of her ear, "we're gonna take us a little walk," Henry hissed, relishing the look of fear in Marsh's eyes. "If I take my hand away, you promise not to scream, you little two-faced slut?"

Beverly quickly nodded, and gasped, choking and coughing for much-needed air the minute his hand flew away from her mouth. Clutching onto her ribcage, she doubled over, wheezing, and gasping for air that simply would not fucking return to her lungs.

"C'mon," Henry growled, grabbing Beverly by the arm and striding forwards towards Eddie, who let out a tiny squeak of fear but didn't dare bolt for the safety of the woods.

He couldn't. Not when Bowers had his friend help captive like this. He couldn't _leave_ her. He stifled a choked, squeaking cry of surprise and pain as Henry violently grabbed onto Eddie's left arm, Beverly in his right, each of his victims flanking either side of him.

"W—where are you taking us?" Eddie whispered breathlessly, surprised he could still even breathe at all, with how dizzy and lightheaded he felt. "Please, man, let us go…"

Henry let out a low warning growl from the back of his throat. "Try to be nice to you assholes. I told you I wasn't gonna hurt you too bad, long as you did what I said, and you didn't fuckin' listen to me, either one of you brats, so now, you're in for it. We're gonna go someplace new," he breathed, a light igniting in his soulless blue eyes. "You fuckin' Loser's have been there before. You oughta know it," he growled angrily. "Move it."

Beverly and Eddie silently exchanged a glance, not knowing what Henry had in mind for them originally, but whatever he had planned to do with them, the two friends now knew they'd made it ten times worse on themselves with their little botched escape plan.

The two of them didn't know how long they walked in silence as Henry led them down a dirt path that curved and wound its way into a neighborhood. Both Eddie and Beverly jumped as distant thunder behind them seemed to crack the air as it threatened an oncoming storm.

It rolled like the ash could of a volcano, becoming a rolling booming rumble. It declared to all the raw power of nature and gave fair warning of the wrath that was to come. "Move your asses," Henry snarled through clenched teeth, his grip tightening on Eddie and Beverly's arms, hard enough to break them if they tried to bolt.

Beverly inhaled a breath of cold air, her black bag resting idly against her hip as they were marched down a familiar looking street, and the young woman felt a stab of fear prick her heart. She thought it would have been kinder for Henry just to kill them.

"No…" she whispered in a cracking voice as soon as she saw where he was taking them. Beneath the sound of Eddie's muffled cries and the distant thunder, Beverly couldn't hear her own footfalls. The streets felt like they passed by in a frigid blur.

Henry definitely wasn't taking them home, or setting them free, like he'd promised.

"Look, man," Eddie pleaded desperately, struggling pitifully against Bowers' grip. "You've had your fucking fun with us, let us go! W—we won't tell anyone, right?"

He looked towards Beverly for confirmation, who quickly nodded, though she knew Henry had seen the briefest flashes of anger flick through her blue eyes, knowing full well that she had no intentions of just letting this little stunt of Henry Bowers' slide.

He wasn't leading them home, but to that house that everyone said was haunted. Eddie and Beverly and the rest of the Loser's Club were maybe the only ones that knew the truth. That it was. And she realized as she glanced around the neighborhood, and up at the rolling black and purple thunderclouds, that it was the only place they could go.

The old Neibolt House still had a roof and the windows were unbroken, even the winos of Derry and the local druggies tended to steer clear of this old haunted house.

Eddie looked up at the old house in trepidation and fear. He passed it every day since he had started school on the days that he chose to walk. It was just like all the other houses on the street, but the frown lawn weeds grew past his and Beverly's kneecaps.

If there was ever a path, it was gone, buried. The door had that weathered, sun-bleached look and the window frames were more bare rotting wood than pleasant paint.

He bit his lip, barely stifling his low moan of fear and anguish. "No, no, no, Henry, don't fucking make us go in there!" he screeched at the top of his lungs, wildly thrashing in Bowers' grip, which he knew was only going to piss Henry off more, but he didn't care. They could not go in that fucking house. Otherwise…they weren't going to come out. IT would find them. IT would kill them all and feast on their flesh and bones.

"Shut the fuck up, you whiny piece of shit," snarled Henry meanly. He paused just on the front porch of the old Neibolt House. He violently shoved them forward as they waded through the greenery of the weeds and grass that needed maintaining long ago, forcing their legs through it. "You ask me, this is me lettin' you assholes off _nicely_. Tell you what. You're gonna stay here, for a fucking hour, an' I'm gonna go home an' deal with my old man. Then I'm gonna pretend like none of this fuckin' happened," he breathed wildly, and in the dim light he looked deranged. Beverly automatically took two steps backward, grabbing Eddie's hand and dragging the smaller teen with her as she did, and the tip of his slender nose was almost touching Beverly's. She let out a breathy little squeak of fear as she felt her back press against the Neibolt House, and she shivered.

The irrational part of her brain half expected Pennywise's fucking unnaturally long arms to reach through the fucking rotten wood of the door and snatch her and Eddie away. But IT didn't. _Maybe IT's still sleeping_ , she thought wildly, clenching her eyes shut, not wanting to look Henry Bowers in the eyes.

She could only fucking hope so. If IT was, then there was a strong chance she and Eddie might survive for an hour and then they could go get help.

This house, like it or not, was their best chance to wait out the storm, and one glance over at Eddie's face was more than enough. Totally drained of color, he knew it, just as well as she did, but that didn't mean they had to like it at all.

"We—we won't fucking tell anyone what happened," Beverly spoke up softly. She let out a scream as Henry balled his hand into a fist and aggressively punched the door she was backed up against, his fingertips just barely grazing her ear. "Please, Henry, don't…"

"Yeah. We'll tell everyone we got lost," Eddie breathed, wide-eyed and fearful.

"Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit," Henry growled, swiveling his head around to look at Eddie. "You. You're the most annoying one out of the whole goddamn group. You're so fucking weak and prissy. Makes me wanna beat the shit out of you. But…"

Beverly shuddered as he turned his attention back towards her, at the grin that had settled onto his face. "You assholes think this place is haunted, huh?" he murmured, glancing in through one of the windows that was coated with dust with a small amount of amusement in his eyes. "Fucking _perfect_. It's the perfect place then for you two to piss yourselves while you wait out this goddamn storm, an' if you fuckin' tell _anyone_ , that me an' Pat and Huggins took your asses off the streets, I swear to fuckin' God, I'll hunt you down and creep into your rooms at night and slit your fuckin' throats while you sleep."

Without another word, he kicked in the door with the edge of his boot, eliciting a startled cry from Eddie and a shiver from Beverly as he violently shoved the two of them inside. "Get in, losers," he ordered. "I ain't done with you pricks just yet. You thought you'd get rid of me, ain't that easy. I'm gonna wait for at least thirty minutes till this shit blows over, and then I'm outta here. You two assholes are gonna stay put a while longer." His face was impassive, though there was no mistaking the sick glee in his eyes.

_Just fucking perfect_ , Beverly thought, though she was more fearful than angry.

Now they were in _really_ deep shit, up shit creek without a paddle, and they had no way out of this mess, either. Trapped alone in the Neibolt House with Henry.

Where It lived...


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

This was just their fucking luck. Not only were he and Bev back in the fucking Neibolt House, a place where Eddie Kaspbrak hoped he would never have to set foot in again, but now, Henry was here with them. Eddie buried his head in his hands as he and Bev awkwardly sat on the decrepit old couch of what looked to be a parlor on the first level of the Neibolt House. The thing was incredibly old and creaked anytime one of them shifted. Eddie gulped nervously and watched as Henry Bowers sat idle in a wooden chair in the corner, lighting up a cigarette, clamping the nicotine stick between his jaws.

Bev let out a low growl. "Can I have one? They're _mine_ , Bowers. I paid good money for those smokes. Least you could do after fucking my brains out, _against my consent_ , is let me have one of my _own_ fucking cigarettes. They—they help control the shakes, so please…for fuck's sake, gimme one of those," Bev spoke up coldly, no warmth in her voice, shattering the otherwise awkward silence that had been present for the last fifteen minutes or so.

Eddie glanced sideways at Bev, their thighs practically touching. She'd rested her hands in her lap, though Eddie couldn't help but notice her bare and slightly bleeding foot was tapping restlessly against the disgusting rotten filthy wooden floorboards of the parlor.

Her hands, which were resting in her lap, were shaking so goddamn bad at first glance, Eddie though poor Beverly might be going into a seizure or something bad.

He drew in a sharp breath and held it, waiting with bated breath, biting his cracked bottom lip hard enough to bleed, not even realizing he was holding his breath until he heard himself exhale, carefully studying Henry Bowers' reaction as he snorted and rolled his eyes, reaching into the front pocket of his flannel shirt and handed a cigarette to her.

"Take it," he growled. "I did steal 'em from you anyways," he admitted, sounding more amused than remorseful. "Here," Henry snapped, sounding annoyed at the incessant shaking of Beverly's hands as she fumbled the fag in her mouth, trying to steady her hands.

Eddie watched, wide-eyed and fearful as he brought his Zippo lighter towards the cigarette in Beverly's mouth as she leaned forward, allowing Henry to light it for her.

"Thanks," Beverly grumbled in a tone that didn't sound at all grateful to Eddie, but then again, what Bowers had fucking put her through, Eddie didn't blame Beverly for behaving like a bitch to Henry. He deserved every second of Bev's wrath and more.

Henry merely grunted in response, snorting in amusement as Eddie began to cough at all the haze of smoke lingering in the room from their cigarette smoke trails. "Jesus."

"What's gonna happen to us?" Beverly asked after a long lingering silence that caused the air to feel weighted and kind of suffocated. "You're just…letting us go? _Why_?"

She brought the cigarette back to her lips and inhaled a long drag, and blew the smoke out slowly, almost in a seductive manner, creating an almost perfect ring of smoke, blowing it towards Henry. Henry Bowers frowned as he stared across the room at Beverly, just as another crack of thunder rent the air and elicited a yelp from Kaspbrak, who flailed for Marsh's hand.

"Fuckin' sissy. It's just a little thunder and lightning. Grow the fuck up, faggot. One more sound outta you, and I'm gonna start cutting you for every fuckin' little noise you make. Fuckin' crybaby," he growled darkly, though he did not answer Beverly's question. Bowers furrowed his brow into a frown as he stared back at Beverly, who refused to avert her gaze until she got an answer to her question.

The girl with the fiery red locks that looked like she'd been kissed by the sun when she'd been born. This bitch was beginning to be something of a problem for him and this had caused him to come to the decision to let her and Kaspbrak go, much to his own surprise.

He'd thought it over while in the shower and realized that, while his little game of kidnapping them and letting them strew in their own fear had been fun, it wasn't worth the jail time, which was what was likely to happen if his dad came home and found out that he and Pat and Huggins had held Eddie and Beverly captive in the basement.

A pair of wide, bright shining blue eyes the color of a robin's egg stared back up at him, just a hint of fear in her eyes. The smallest admission of fear. Good. It would do.

Even though their hands and legs were no longer bound and they sat rooted in fear on the sofa in the lounge of the Neibolt House that looked as though moths had gotten to the cushions, given the thing was riddled with holes, Beverly looked utterly helpless and defenseless—in a strange way, Bowers kind of felt excited about it if he was being honest. Marsh was a special kind of bitch, not like all the other whores in Derry.

Not afraid of him, or if she was, she was damn good at hiding the truth. A challenge. That's what she was. A challenge. And Bowers was never one to shy away from a challenge. Just knowing he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to this woman made him feel entirely powerful.

Maybe more powerful than he'd ever felt in his entire life growing up, and that included dealing with his old man, who'd not once shown him an ounce of kindness.

Henry's heart pounded in his chest and he felt his breathing rate increase as he realized he could literally do anything to the young redhead woman seated across from him. He could fuck her again, kick her, break her bones one-by-one, cut her pretty little face with a knife and make her one ugly whore to match her reputation if he was of a mind to, and yet…he found that he did not want to ruin her features. Not like that.

He liked his girls pretty. He could burn her arm with a cigarette, choke her, stab her, whatever he hell he wanted to do, he could do it. It's not like anybody was gonna see them here, now that he had them in the old abandoned Neibolt House. Place was a dump.

And something in Henry's gut told the bully that Beverly Marsh would take it. If judging by the fire in her blue eyes was anything for the older teen to go off of. The bitch was brave, a strong one, maybe the strongest willed one in that whole group of Loser's. Marsh wasn't so easily shaken up or scared like the other boys she hung around with. Bowers had never much given it a second thought how much fun it would be to steal the bitch away and keep her hidden, to be his pretty little obedient plaything for as long as he wanted. Henry knew a few hiding places. No one would find Beverly here.

Bowers let out a low growl from the back of his throat and had bolted across the room, practically lunging off the old coffee table that separated his chair from the sofa those two losers sat on, and Eddie shrieked and lunged to his feet, backing away.

But not her. She calmly stood to her feet, cigarette still clamped in her jaw, and calmly exhaled a puff of smoke into Henry's face. He let out another growl as he could see the young redhead bitch was plainly trying really hard not to break down in tears.

Beverly would blink back briny tears and swallow hard past the lump in her throat, but she was also trying to be subtle in her movements as she stamped out the last of her cigarette onto the coffee table. The thing was rotted and barely standing on one leg as it was, anyways, and given that nobody lived here except for IT, she figured he didn't care.

Bowers let out another roar as he launched his backpack off his shoulders and dug into it for a fresh length of rope and his pocketknife, working quickly to cut off a length of the rope and bind her wrists. She winced and cried out only once as the harsh frayed edges of the rope he'd swiped from his dad's basement rubbed against her already tender and bleeding skin of her wrists from where Bowers had put her in the zip ties earlier.

It hurt like hell, but after what he had already done to her, taking away every last shred of dignity she'd possessed, Beverly was _not_ going to give Henry the satisfaction.

"S—stop, Bowers!" Eddie wheezed in a shaking breath, where he stood cowering in the corner, his voice timid and meek. He fell silent and lowered his head as Henry turned towards him, and quickly returned his attentions back towards Beverly, who stood still.

"Sit the fuck down," he growled. "Both of you," he added, striding over to the corner where Girly Boy cowered like the pitiful little coddled wretch that he was, crossing the length of the floor and procuring the other empty chair that had remained unoccupied. He stood the chair's backs towards each other, binding Kaspbrak and Marsh to the chairs with the lengths of rope, their arms tied behind their backs, feet bound.

They weren't fucking going anywhere unless somebody, probably one of their pathetic little loser buddies found them. Maybe they wouldn't be found at all and they'd die. Either way, Henry didn't care. What he did care about, however, was not getting caught. Bowers wasn't gonna go to jail for these two assholes. No way. Not on his life.

Beverly cringed and shirked away from Bowers' groping hands as he squatted down on the rotting floor of the parlor's wooden floor and placed a surprisingly tender hand on her leg. "Does it bother you, bitch?" he asked softly, feeling his voice lower an octave and go quieter than it usually did, whenever he was around the other Loser's Club assholes.

"Y—yes," Eddie spoke up quietly, which only fueled Henry's rage further. He let out a growl and drew back his hand and slapped the younger smaller teen across his face.

"I WASN'T TALKING TO YOU!" Bowers bellowed, spit flying from his lips.

Eddie let out a pitiful whimper and fell silent, tears pouring down his cheeks.

"Fucking stop it!" screamed Beverly at the top of her lungs, the loudest she could muster. At this point, she didn't fucking give a shit if all the commotion woke IT up.

_Good. Let the fucking clown hear all this goddamn noise. Maybe it'll come upstairs and eat Henry for us, pissed that he woke IT up_ , she thought venomously as Bowers drew back his hand, prepared to do it again if Eddie continued making such a fuss, but he let his hand fall to his side as Eddie's head lolled forward, and Beverly could have sworn she heard a goddamn muscle crack. The one time in her life she'd have been glad to see IT.

And it was the one time Pennywise the Dancing fucking Clown did not show.

Bev felt the hot fire seed of anger well in her stomach as her temper flared. She grunted and struggled against her restraints as Henry took a step back to admire his work. "You fucking sick son of a bitch, you cocksucker, if you broke his neck, I'll—"

"You'll _what_?" Henry retorted meanly, his lips pursing into a twisted grimace. "Scream. Go ahead, cunt. Scream if you want. Ain't nobody gonna hear you in here."

She felt her shoulders sag in defeat. The asshole was right. Bev had a thousand retorts on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it, staying silent. She could taste the coppery tang of the blood welling and settling on her tongue with the effort to remain silent.

Beverly struggled to move and found that she couldn't. The strong scent of dust and what smelled suspiciously like mold intermingled with dried blood filled her nostrils.

She and Eddie were bound back-to-back in a pair of chairs, their hands trapped together, held by rope. No getting out of this little mess unless someone found them.

Beverly's heart lurched and she could taste the acidic bile coating the back of her throat as she realized that it was a strong possibility that the wrong someone could find them. What if it was Hockstedder or Huggins or Victor Criss who found them, huh?

Then what the fuck would they do? Bev winced and clenched her eyes shut. She really hoped Ben or Bill or even Mike would be the one(s) to find her and Eddie here.

Bev felt like the room was slowly suffocating her and Eddie, the air pressing down, as if they were drowning, but not able to do a goddamn thing about it. She thought briefly maybe it would be better if they _did_ drown. At least then, it would be over.

But no. If she died here then so would Eddie, and she couldn't let that happen. They had to get out somehow. Someone would have to find them, and hopefully, that 'someone' was going to be someone that was on her and Eddie's side in all of this.

"Why are you fucking doing this?" Beverly spoke up, unable to control the wild shaking in her voice. "I—it isn't right, Bowers. Surely, you gotta know that, so why?"

As she looked at Bowers' hulking, towering form as he loomed over the pair of them, with his arms folded across his chest, she felt a new surge of fear course through her veins, chilling her blood. Her momma always used to tell her that there was nothing to fear except fear itself, yet in this cruel world that was so not true. What about the clown?

IT was something to be feared. Many things, including the fucking clown, were worse than fear, and Henry Bowers, Beverly knew, definitely fit into that category.

"Look, man, j—just…untie us and let us go, and we won't tell anybody," Bev pleaded, biting her now bleeding bottom lip. "Please, Henry. Y—you've done enough."

Bev couldn't quite explain it, but all of a sudden, she felt kind of groggy. Briefly, she wondered if Henry had done something, injected her and Eds with some kind of drug, though she'd not felt a needle prick her skin, or a pill shoved down her throat, so what gives?

Why the fuck was she suddenly feeling so incredibly drowsy, like she couldn't breathe?

Narrowing his eyes, Bowers stared down at the redheaded bitch and the whiny little faggot momma's boy who had caused him so much goddamned trouble. He thought it would be funny just to slowly work towards getting the cunt to cry. He was kind of close to that point already. Beverly Marsh had gotten her a little teary eyed the minute he'd dragged her and Kaspbrak up onto the porch of the Neibolt House, but not a full on sobbing breakdown, complete with tears, screaming, shaking sobs, the usual works. Henry would have been lying to himself if he said that he didn't want to make the bitch cry more than anything right now.

Just to see how easily he could make her cry.

The women always tended to cry, in the end. He wanted to see how much shit the Marsh girl was willing to put up with, maybe even see if he could get Beverly Marsh to cry without hurting her at all, without so much as laying a single finger on her body.

"I ain't gonna kill you," Bowers growled, and for some reason, he felt that familiar tenseness in his shoulders begin again as he watched Beverly's shoulders sag in relief, and she breathed an audible sigh of relief. Bowers weighed the knife in his hand.

It was no heavier than a kitchen blade, but would cut on first contact, even with minimum pressure. Its serrations were like waves, but not randomly, so like on the cheaper knives you could buy in a store. They would slide in smoothly and do maximum damage on the way out, like the barbs on a fishing hook. At seven inches, he could easily keep it under his jacket, not his only weapon of course, but a useful back up in close combat.

For some reason, when he saw his reflection in the steel, his mind flicked to the wounded woman bound and helpless in front of him, forced to a kneeling position on her knees. He picked the girls for their painted lips and short skirts, he felt drawn to their high heels and long legs. They made him think bad thoughts, unclean thoughts. They made him lustful and unchaste, something within himself he despised.

His father had instilled in him at a young age to be wary of women after their mother had left them when Henry was only nine.

"Why are you doing this?" Beverly asked, careful to keep her voice neutral, eyes level.

Bowers noticed her look and smiled, the smile not reaching his eyes, so… _lonely_. Was that even the right word? Yes. Lonely. There it was. "I've been wanting to talk with you, bitch, for a long time now. I've been watching you, pet, ever since you an' your daddy moved to Derry.

"Why?" was all she was able to ask the man.

Bowers growled. "Because I can, bitch. That's why." That was the breaking point of his patience. At that moment, Henry seethed and ground his teeth together, jaw locked, and he was blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying. Henry reached out.

He went to punch the young woman in the face. When his fist came into contact with the right side of her cheek, even he winced at the sharp cracking noise as her head whiplashed backwards and hit against the headrest of the chair. Beverly let out a sharp yet soft cry of pain, and that only fueled his inexplicable ire more.

Henry tried to shake the aching after taste, on the taste buds of his hand. Much like coffee, its bitterness drew him in to take another sip knowing he would be more awake than before. There was a fresh black and purple bruise underneath her left eye already, that would yellow as it aged, and Henry knew it would stick around at least a week or two, and she kept her head tilted backward, and for the briefest of moments, Henry was tempted to run his palms along the smooth column of her throat, to really feel her skin, to see if it was as soft and unblemished as it really looked. He stifled a low growl in his throat and resisted the urge. Bowers grabbed the back of her chair and tilted it backwards, her red hair falling back over her shoulders.

He smirked as she continued to fight her bindings, but she wasn't going to be getting out of those anytime. "Looking for _this_?" he taunted, holding up the key to her handcuffs before slipping it into the back pocket of his jeans. "Don't try to fight it, Bev."

He almost laughed at seeing the look of defiance in her blue eyes, but then what she did next set him on edge. She spat in his face. Red. All that filled his vision was crimson red. Burning rage hissed through Henry's body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence.

It was like a volcano erupting; fury sweeping off Henry like ferocious waves. The wrath consumed him entirely, engulfing his moralities and destroying the boundaries of loyalty. Bowers could envision Bev bleeding already for what she had just done. _Never_ had one of his little playthings spat in his face before.

This was a first, one he could not allow to go unpunished. Henry drew back his hand and backhanded her so hard across her pretty little face that even he flinched at the deafening crack. Not broken, no, but it would hurt for a while. He felt guilty, but he couldn't stop. So many years of bullying that sunk deep into his mind and added a fire-hot spice that completed the vexed dish he was serving, though he considered that little deed mostly finished as he had taken the wheezing little momma's boy and the whore.

But still, he knew what he was doing was wrong. Henry knew he should put an end to all of this, just…disappear somewhere and go, apologize before he made it worse, but he just didn't have it within him to stop. "S—Stop," came the girl's plea desperately.

He almost had to strain forward to hear her through her mumbling, her voice was so soft and quiet. Timid, even. Her tone was not fearful, and this gave him pause, so…he stopped. Henry watched, curious, cocking his head to the side as the young woman turned her head sharply to the left and spat a mouthful of blood off to the side.

"You…don't…have to…do this…" she rasped weakly. "Th—there's still…time. Give this up. Turn yourself in, Bowers."

He said nothing, and, no longer wishing to stand, looked around the room until he found what he was looking for. Bev winced as the loud scraping of the wooden chair he dragged across the room rang in her ears. His face remained neutral and impassive as Henry turned the chair backwards and straddled it in front of Bev, resting his chin in his hands as he regarded the young woman with an inquisitive expression, as if she were an exotic animal in a zoo.

"I don't know what it was, Henry, th—that bent your life out of shape," the young woman began hesitantly, lifting her chin, jutting it out slightly defiantly so in order to look him in the eyes. "B—but maybe…I've been there too. Maybe I could help you. Rehabilitate you. You don't need to be alone. You…you don't have to kill anyone else, Henry," her voice came out as barely a whisper. "Let me…let us help you, Bowers. We can…we can fix you. Get you help."

Henry froze, considering her words. "I'm sorry." His voice was solemn, no hint of malice or joking at all. "I'm sorry, but…no. It's too late for me," he spat, sounding disgusted with himself. "I'm trying. But I can't feel a goddamn thing, bitch," he growled. Bowers regarded Bev in silence for a moment. She really was quite a pretty little thing. He almost hated to ruin her face in a moment. _Almost_.

"Henry…please don't do this…" Bev startled as she heard a scuffling sound coming from above. Pennywise, she thought wildly, and really hoped the clown wasn't awake. If IT was, and Henry left them here all alone tied up like this, well…they were fucked.

Bev nodded mutely. Anything to stall him, keep him talking. Maybe…just maybe then…help would arrive, and they could all get out of there. "I know what it's like."

If she kept him conversing like this, maybe she could stall him long enough to talk him out of killing her and Eddie.

Henry frowned. "Well, it's like…when you go under water, and you close your eyes. Everything in the world suddenly ceases to exist somehow. The only thing you hear is the beating of your heart and the thoughts on your mind, and if you don't reach the surface, you start to feel your lungs craving for air, burning because you can't breathe," Henry growled, and Bev gulped nervously as she saw the briefest flickers of pure, unadulterated rage pass through his eyes.

Bev watched as his lethal stare felt painful and piercing, as if his glare were tearing her heart apart. She looked down at her lap and rested her handcuffed hands on her thighs. Blood. Her own. She looked up at him again, this time, with widened eyes. A final glance at his furious eyes confirmed her possible outcome. Eventually, Henry would kill her.

Beverly watched as Bowers' eyes misted over, as if he were remembering something. Whether that memory was unpleasant or a happy one, Bev could not tell at all.

Henry let out a low, guttural growl from the back of his throat. "That's how I feel about everything lately," he said in a quiet voice. "I can only hear the echoes of past voices in my mind. Sometimes…it's hard for me to breathe, but the rest of the world doesn't matter. Nothing matters right now. The world doesn't give a shit about people like me, so why should I give a fuck about the rest of the world? What a sick fuckin' joke." Henry heaved a heavy sigh, feeling around in the pockets of his black and red plaid shirt until he found a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He clamped one between his teeth, and Bev noticed his hands seemed a little uncoordinated and kind of fumbling. Nervous, even. "Your dad's like an overbearing bastard, right?" Henry finally spoke up, seemingly interested in making conversation with his captive.

Bev swallowed. To that, she didn't know what to say, so she thought silence was best.

Henry merely grunted in response. "My life would be a lot better off if I weren't…here. Like _this_ ," he growled, gesturing with his finger towards his arm, with his shirt sleeve rolled up, Beverly drew in a sharp breath as she could see hundreds of scars, and at the scar that snaked its way across his brow bone and ended at the curve of his lip, twisting the edges of his mouth into a permanent grimace which gave him a truly terrifying look, but…but…

Bev sensed there was more to Henry than he let on, and if she could just continue to talk with him, then maybe there would be no need for the night to end in bloodshed. Bev flinched as she felt his hand drift downward, where it rested on her thigh as he scooted his chair that little bit closer.

Henry noticed her look of trepidation and his lips curled into a taunting sneer. "You're not gonna get out of here without someone findin' you, an' if you tell anyone that I did all this fuckin' shit to you, I'll kill you."

"That's not true!" Bev shouted, feeling the beginnings of fear prick at her heart as she felt his hand move with surprising tenderness up her thigh. She flinched, not wanting to show this man just how much he was getting to her and feeling like she was doing a bad job of, because he noticed and his lip twisted upward into a mischievous smirk.

"Henry," begged Bev, and she hated the weakness that was laced throughout her voice. She swallowed as Henry drew closer, having resumed picking up the dagger he'd left on the side table, along with another set of instruments she couldn't and didn't even want to identify. "Y—you don't have to do this, Henry. You could run away from your dad, from Derry—and leave. Right now. I swear it. I—I won't tell anyone you were here. Y—you could…I'll say we were mugged and brought here by a couple guys."

At her desperate plea, Henry threw back his head and let out a short, bark-like laugh and regarded Bev, seeming almost amused with her attempts to reason with him.

Henry resumed his seat in front of Bev, continuing to sit in that way of straddling the chair backwards, twirling the knife in his hands, admiring the sheen of the silver in the dim light, courtesy of the moon that streamed in through a hole in the barn's roof.

He let out a bitter laugh as he shoved Bev's chair painfully back against the wall. "No. It's too late for me. I'm far too gone. I've killed animals and shit. Fuck, I almost killed Kaspbrak more than once. I'm an angry, bitter, violent asshole. I know what I am…I can't go back from that, no matter what anyone says. If there's one thing Dad got right…there's no hope left for someone like me." The self-loathing in his tone was evident.

Bev felt her mind quickly going into overdrive to put the missing pieces together.

"Yes, you can," Bev rasped out hoarsely, reaching up with her cuffed hands as she felt Henry's grip around the column of her throat tighten slightly. "Henry, yes, you can go back. You can leave and have your own life. G—get married, have kids who treat you well. Put all this behind you a—and start over," she whispered breathlessly, hardly daring to believe the words that felt like they were tumbling out of her mouth, her tongue no longer listening to her brain.

Henry laughed and tightened his grip around Bev's throat, ignoring her desperate clawing at his hands as she struggled to pry his hands off her.

"You of all people shouldn't suggest to me that I _ever_ have kids. You're one to talk, cunt. You can't even keep a boyfriend, so what makes someone like you think you'll ever have kids, huh? Don't lecture me about what you think I should do," he snarled, leaning in so the tip of his nose practically was touching hers. "What woman would ever want _this_?" he snarled, gesturing to his scars as he rolled up the sleeve of his plaid shirt, his arm littered with dozens of angry scars, thick, red and white jagged lines, and several burn marks, fixing Bev with a cold stare, almost emotionless.

"Someone would," whispered Beverly, her voice barely audible. She clenched her teeth, grinding them in anger, lying through her teeth.

"Hmm?" he growled. "You know any volunteers? Certainly isn't going to be _you_. Just looking at you and how those boys fought over you makes me want to punch you and beat your little body within an inch of your pathetic life. Why you? You're nothing special, cunt," Henry growled, squeezing her hand even tighter around Bev's life. "It's _sick_. You're playing all these guys with no regard to either one's feelings," he hissed. "I knew I was right to take you. Both those men will be better off without a sniveling little whiny bitch like you in their lives. They'll be free. Women like you test men's baser instincts and inflame them."

"And me? What 'baser instinct' do I ignite in you, Bowers?" snapped Bev hotly, immediately clenching her eyes shut and braced herself for another blow, but it didn't come. Damn her and her temper. It was going to be her undoing one of these days, she just knew it.

It was why her and Daddy had so many disagreements. She would lash out in anger and say things that she didn't mean, though by the time she had, it was always too late to take them back. She liked to believe he wouldn't, but given the erratic way he was behaving and his violent mood swings that seemed to have no states of gray-scale, Bev decided she couldn't rule it out, as much as _that_ little pleasant thought made her stomach churn and the bile rise to the back of her throat.

"Weak women like you just piss me off. But you deserve to be hurt just as much as the others," he hissed angrily. "Maybe more since the world keeps giving you a pass. No second chances here, bitch," he growled, squeezing his hand even tighter around Bev's throat.

Bev let out a frightened little gasp as she grabbed her fingers around Henry's burly arm.

The man was close to choking the life force out of her by this point. Bev would have let out a cry if she were able to breathe. Instead, she opened her mouth and only managed a tiny, strangled, choking noise as tears began to stream down her cheeks. Her ribs ached and hurt horribly from where Henry had hit her, but her lungs screamed and burned for relief even more. She couldn't breathe. Her vision was growing gray at the edges.

Letting out a tiny whimper, Bev felt her eyes clench shut as she tugged desperately at Henry's plaid shirt sleeve, wincing as the harsh cold metal of her handcuffs dug into the tender skin of her inner wrists. She couldn't breathe. She squirmed underneath Henry's weight, trying anything she could think of to get the older man away from her.

If Henry didn't let go soon…Bev was going to pass out and Henry Bowers could actually kill her, intentional or not. Henry's eyes narrowed as he glowered at Bev until was nothing but a slit. It was unnerving to see the head of a snake glaring at her on a human body.

"When I saw you walking in the neighborhood this morning, your innocent baby blue eyes looking around like you expect the fuckin' air you breathed in to attack you…I wanted to hurt you. You're so…so…" He paused, seemingly struggling to find the right words. "Clean. Protected. _Loved_ ," he snarled, spitting that last word as if it were poison that had settled on his tongue. "I saw last week after school how those two boys threw themselves at each other," he breathed, for a moment sounding a mixture of awestruck and utter disgust. "Both trying to keep their precious little _Bev_ safe…"

He glowered at Bev and squeezed her throat tighter.

"P…please, Henry…." She struggled to draw in breath, but his hold on her throat didn't relinquish or even loosen. Black mists swirled, ebbing, and flowing at the forefront of her vision.

"Maybe it's wrong. I know I'm an evil piece of shit. I saw you today, and I wanted all of you to suffer. People care about you, you got friends who actually give a shit. You're a cute woman, I'll give you that," he admitted, almost begrudgingly so, as he didn't want to confess it to the girl he was about to strangle to death. "You're beautiful, and you know it, don't you, Bev? Of course, you do. How could you not?" he whisper-hissed through gritted teeth, and Bev's gaze drifted down to see his knuckles were white with the effort to steady himself, perhaps to prevent himself from lashing out at her in anger again. "See?" he grunted, the corners of his mouth twisting into an unkind sneer as Bev shot him a dark look. "There's that look again. You're getting to be quite good at this, you know," he sighed, continuing his absentminded twirling of his dagger in his hands, as though bored with the turn their conversation had taken. "You're innocent. _Weak_. _Pathetic_." Henry Bowers shook his head in disgust as he stared down his slender nose at her bitterly, his hulking football player build towering over her as he rose from his chair, lifting Bev off her feet slightly, his grip upon her throat tightening even harder. The color had rapidly drained from Bev's face, and there was no mistaking the fear in her blue eyes now.

"Nobody gives a shit if I get hurt. Nobody fucking cares what happens to me," Henry growled, finally loosening his ironclad grip on Bev's neck, just enough for her to draw in a gasping, choking, wheezing breath and let out a cry. Bev couldn't even manage to formulate words in her head that she wanted to speak as she sucked in shaking, deep breaths of air that pained her lungs, coughing as she gasped for air that simply wasn't there. She barely even recognized the sound of her own pathetic cries, and she couldn't get herself to stop.

She just wanted all this to end, for the tortures and beatings to stop. Henry cocked his head to the side and regarded Bev in silent, waiting for her violent coughing spell to stop. Bev reached up a trembling hand to her throat, as well as she could, given that she was restrained by handcuffs.

She winced as she touched the area of her neck where Henry's hand had gripped it tight, and she knew it was going to leave marks she didn't want. "Henry..."

But Henry ignored her plea, continuing that infuriating behavior of running his hand up and along her thigh. "Did your parents ever hit you growing up?" The question was out of Henry's mouth before he could stop himself, and he knew, judging by that horrified look on the young woman's face that he already knew the answer.

He pulled up his chair closer to her and looked at her closer. Henry Bowers scoffed and rolled his eyes. "No. Of course they didn't. But _mine_ did," he breathed, his one good eye narrowing, and a flicker of dark rage passed through his eye. "I bet your daddy hugged you every night. He probably hugs you." Henry grabbed Bev's chin, cupping it in his strong hand and turned her face back towards him, slapping his other hand teasingly against Bev's forehead. "I just can't relate to that, I'm afraid, dear thing," he sighed, almost sounding remorseful. "Your daddy wouldn't do the shit that my dad did to megrowing up. Maybe he loves you _too_ much. That's a fine line to cross, you know. But my father did. It's hard to tell what that line is when you're just a little kid, but even back then, I knew what he did to us was wrong. Our dad was an asshole," he growled, and there was that familiar fire-spark of anger in his one remaining eye, and his head swiveled almost lazily to the left to regard Bev. "Did your daddy ever sleep in your own bed with you growing up? Tell you how…how _special_ you are? Rub his hands all over you in that way you thought was love at first," Henry went on, his voice growing dangerously soft and quiet now, Bev would have had to lean forward in her chair in order to hear him, though she couldn't, given she was hogtied to the chair. "You're the perfect target for crap like that," Henry growled angrily. "It starts out innocent enough. Kind words. Gentle hands, rubbing a little more than necessary, but harmless enough…until the day that it isn't."

Beverly let out a hiss as she drew in a breath and flinched at the screaming fire burning in her ribcage, near her side from where he had punched her during his tantrum only mere moments ago. Bev stared, feeling her mouth drop open slightly. She didn't know how to respond. "I—I'm sorry," panted Bev, still heaving to catch her breath. "Your dad was wrong, Henry, b—but killing all these people…it won't change what happened to you. Stop this now, and you can still be saved."

"SHUT UP!" bellowed Henry, the last of his patience leaving him at last and he lashed out at the wall behind Bev's head, his fist strong enough that it left a visible dent in the wood. Bev let out a tiny squeak of terror and clenched her eyes shut tight. This was it. Her end.

Henry let out a small growl and his hand drifted towards the back of Bev's skull, finding purchase in her thick red tresses. He yanked her hair back roughly, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from Bev as he tugged. She opened her mouth to say something else to Bowers in a last-ditch effort to reach him, but a flash of yellow out of the corner of her eye and the tumble of movement had grabbed her attention. She sucked in a sharp breath and froze.

"Henry, i—it's not too late to walk away. You can flee," breathed Beverly. Bev couldn't resist adding in her own two cents. "You can fight… _that_ ," she added, seeing how badly the man was shaking. He was seeming to struggle to rein in his effort to control himself and losing horribly. "Whatever is happening to you, you're stronger than this. Please don't do this. We—we can still save you."

" _Shut_. _Up_." His body continued to shake, and he balled his hands into fists to prevent himself from striking out at something in anger. A beat. A pause. "A word of advice. you _really_ don't want to upset me right now. Or I'll stab you in the throat, you nosy, meddling bitch. Shut your mouth. Stop making noise. Don't say another word."

Bev pursed her lips together into a thin line and bit down on her bottom lip, but she couldn't stop her own bout of trembling or the soft whimper that escaped her throat. She tried to focus on a spot on the wood behind Henry's head, instead of on her own fears but she was failing horribly.

Henry's gaze drifted towards Bev, and then back to Eddie. He repeated this a few more times before Bev could almost see the sudden shift in his personality as he seemed to feel something shift within himself. Bev let out a little whimper of fear as he took a huge stride forward and knelt at Bev's chair, so he was at eye-level with her. "I mean it, bitch," he growled, reaching out and grabbing Bev's arm in a fist and gave it a hard squeeze, as if to emphasize his point. "I'll kill you. And I'll kill all your little friends if you breathe a word of this. No one will ever know it was me if you force my hand and make me kill all of you. I'm leaving now. Not a damn word to anyone, understand?"

Just as quick as before, Bev nodded again, letting out a muffled squeak of approval.

"None of that happened," Henry growled, seemingly not even hearing the cop sneak up behind him, slowly inching his way across the floor, careful not to allow the floorboards to creak and give away his position. "When the cops come, "and they will come, if you explain the…wound in your leg, and bruises on your back, and your eye…whatever. I don't care," Henry snarled, "make something up. If you tell the cops or anyone else what happened to you, that I did it, I _will_ find you, and trust me, you won't like what happens to you when I do," he growled through clenched teeth.

"Henry, _please_ ," begged Bev, feeling tears well in her eyes, stinging and burning in her vision. "Th—there's still time for you to change." She shirked away, as far back as her back would allow as he brought the tip of his silver dagger and pressed it delicately, but firmly at her throat, just hard enough to enforce his intended message, what happened to her if she were to tell the cops what had happened here. "We can…I can still save you," she breathed, and immediately she knew she had made a huge mistake. Bev watched, horrified, as Henry's face blanched and almost immediately drained of color and he drew back, looking as though Bev had slapped her.

" _There's nothing left of me to save_!" he roared, and that was when all hell broke loose. Shouting rent the tense atmosphere, and Bev didn't know who was screaming what, if that voice was Eddie or Henry, but Bev was trapped and given no time to react as his hand lowered and he made a move to plunge his dagger into the side of her thigh, and it made a satisfying squish as the tip of his blade sank deep enough to make his latest victim scream. He twisted the blade in his hands, all the while sinking it deeper, and Henry yanked his now crimson-stained knife out of Bev's thigh.

"I—I gotta get the fuck outta here or I'm gonna actually kill you both," he breathed, sounding disgusted with himself, as he grabbed his backpack and flung open the door of the Neibolt House, where he disappeared out into the rain, the door slamming behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

"Oh, shit, oh god, oh, fuck, Bev, we—we gotta get out of here. H—Henry, he—he left us! He left us!" Eddie wheezed, already out of breath and it had only been ten minutes or so since Henry had left them stranded in the Neibolt House's living room, and it already felt like he couldn't breathe at all.

"Eds?" Beverly's voice sounded strained and weak. She'd done nothing but pant for the last ten minutes, stifling sharp cries of pain as the wound in her thigh from where Henry had stabbed her throbbed, and sent swells of fiery, jolting pain up her leg, down her spine, and to the tips of her toes.

"Oh, th—thank fuck!" Eddie sobbed, not even giving a shit any more than he was fully crying now. "I—I thought the bastard prick _killed_ you, Marsh!" he wailed, fighting against their rope restraints.

She coughed, and laughed, choking on it slightly, and the optimism in her voice still sounded false, but she knew she had to be strong, if not for herself, then most definitely for Eddie Spaghetti. The living room was roomy, airy, and kind of eerie. An uneasy breeze blew down the corridor and grasped the pair of Losers with its chilly touch. Its fingers circled around Eddie and Beverly's bodies, tenderly fondling every inch of them both, pulling their shoulders tighter as they huddled into themselves as much as they could for warmth from the chilly air, given they were hog tied back-to-back in these goddamned chairs.

Eddie let out a squeak and his head whiplashed sharply upwards as the tumble of movement and a dark shadow encroaching upon the room shrouded the two in darkness. "Oh, fuck me, BEV!" he screeched at the top of his lungs, his throat suddenly parched and felt quite dry, and when he opened his mouth to scream, all that came out was nothing but a breathy squeak.

"Shit," growled Beverly through clenched teeth, a muscle in her jaw twitching as she lifted her chin and saw where Eddie was looking. From the darkness of the room as night quickly fell, there stepped a man.

At first, his face was kind of obscured by the dim light, but then, he shuffled forwards and the feeble light from the moonlight beams streaming in through one of the windows that wasn't broken was just enough to illuminate Pennywise the Dancing Clown's features. That weird bluish hue made him all the paler, but it was clear to both Eddie and Beverly, he wore thick, white, cakey clown makeup. Each of his eyes was in the center of a black cross, and his mouth was huge and garish red.

It was very clearly lipstick, though to Eddie, who was feeling very much like he was going to pass out given how short of breath he was, that it looked more to the hypochondriac kid like nasty old blood. The clown's hair on his head was a bright orange, and stuck up in wild tufts, wild and frenzied, and some stuck up in clumps, like he'd taken a pair of scissors to it himself and done one fucking hell of a hack job, and the creature's ivory-white suit looked disheveled, and the dark circles underneath Its eyes only succeeded in giving IT an even more sunk in, gaunt, almost emaciated look. "Well, well…what a surprise. How...kind of you to visit me in my loneliness."

Pennywise's voice was doing that high-pitched thing again, Eddie realized, and he tried to scream, but nothing came out. He really wished he could see Beverly's face, to see what she was thinking, to know if she was as fucking terrified as he was. The clown turned slowly to Eddie, unsmiling, and said,

"Do you want to hear the joke about the kids who came to the Neibolt House late at night, Eds?"

"H—help!" he squeaked, Eddie's voice feeling dry and parched. He would have screamed, and by fucking God, he really fucking wanted to, but when he tried, nothing was coming out except his breaths, which felt like they were making him dizzy. He was hyperventilating at the sight of IT again.

"B—B-Bev!" Eddie hollered, when Beverly did not respond to Pennywise's taunts. "D—do something. G—go away a—and leave us the fuck alone!" he screamed hoarsely. He swallowed hard past the lump forming in his throat, not even feeling the fresh tears that poured down his cheeks in steady tracts, inhaling a sharp breath of painful air that felt like it sent his lungs spiraling against his ribcage.

Beverly blearily lifted her chin and felt her blue eyes go wide and round as she found herself staring face-to-face with Pennywise the Dancing Clown, who was regarding his two newest playthings with no small level of amusement in his cold, listless gray eyes, though the hint of a smile tugged at his red-painted lips, and when he smiled that wide Cheshire Cat-like grin, Beverly felt a tremor of fear go down her spine and a muscle behind her eyelid twitch as it spasmed, but she knew IT fed on fear.

And she was not going to give this cocksucker the satisfaction of IT seeing just how terrified she was.

Beverly swallowed hard, blinking back briny tears, and steeling herself for an outburst as she watched as the clown's form began to twist and distort as it took the form of something—or someone—that he knew that she feared. And within a mere matter of seconds, the face of her own father stared back at her.

"Are you still….my little girl, Bevvy? Tell me you'll always be my special girl, sweetheart. If you tell anyone of our little games, then they'll take me away, and lock me up," IT growled in _his_ voice, Alvin's voice, and Beverly let out an agonized roar as Pennywise the Dancing Clown let out a strange giggle that was high-pitched and childlike. Pennywise seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT WITH US?" she screamed, not even caring anymore as her tears flew down her cheeks like that of a dam bursting as the floodgates opened and she could no longer control herself. "We fucking _killed_ you, I fucking know it! W—we _saw_ you go back in the sewer! Y—You made a _deal_ with us, asshole! You're supposed to be fucking asleep for the next few years!"

Pennywise the Dancing Clown scowled, furrowing his painted orange brows into a mock frown as he stuck out his bottom lip in a slight pout, folding his skinny arms across his chest as he knelt slightly so he was at eye level with Bev, looking her dead in the eyes. She swallowed again and visibly flinched as she felt his white gloved hand trace its way up her leg and come to rest on her thigh as he smirked.

His smile was evil, wicked, with just a hint of childlike curiosity and mischievous. But Bev wasn't fooled. It was how IT lured in the kids. Easier to catch that way, more gullible than the adults.

"What the fuck do you want with us?" Bev repeated, the words escaping her as a low growl in the back of her throat. "Huh? I—if you're gonna fucking eat us, then just fucking kill us and do it, goddamn it," she growled, drowning out Eddie Kaspbrak's paranoid screams and shouting protests.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, BEV?" Eddie screeched, his voice now higher than IT's.

The monster standing in front of them had always gone unnoticed in their little town of Derry, Maine. He wasn't invisible, but he could take on the persona of other humans, and had done so, just like Eddie had seen him do with Alvin Marsh, Beverly's father, only a split second ago to torment her. Pennywise's gangly frame made it really easy to weave through the crowds when he traversed the town as Bob Gray, and he enjoyed peering into the homes of the well fed tycoons of Derry.

At almost a million years old, Pennywise sometimes felt his bones creak and his muscles grow weary of this pathetic world with the even more pathetic human inhabitants. He had long since given up on the larger meals, too chewy, too tough, too difficult to swallow, and if he was being honest with himself, not nearly as fun as picking off the kids, the innocent little darlings. The little ones were far easier for IT to pick off.

Tender, succulent, and sweet, right down to the last bone. Never once did Pennywise notice that the town over the last few years had become absolutely plastered with paper posters, each one bearing the image of a missing child. But he didn't care. His long sleep and rest had been interrupted, and for that… _someone_ was going to have to pay by becoming IT's next main course.

"My…long sleep…" he breathed, lowering his voice so that the childlike intonations were now gone, and all Beverly and Eddie could hear was the pissed off genuflections of the adult they knew IT was.

"W—what about it?" Eddie squeaked, now silently crying, though he had managed to maintain a hold on his screams, for which Beverly was grateful. Maybe…just maybe, if they both calmed down, they could quite possibly talk their way out of this and convince the fucking clown to let them live.

"Interrupted," growled the clown, snarling and letting out a low warning growl from the back of his throat. "Luckily for me, I woke up to find two…delectable morsels just waiting for me," Pennywise sneered, baring his canines, causing both Eddie and Beverly to flinch as the two knew what was coming next.

Eddie let out a breathy silent scream as the clown's mouth opened unnaturally wide, reveal hundreds of rows of impossibly razor sharp teeth. "Oh shit, oh god, oh FUCK!" he screamed wildly.

"Wait!" screamed Beverly, hating hearing the desperation in his voice and how scared she sounded. But it must have been enough to placate Pennywise, since he paused, hearing the shift in the redhead's voice. She panted, needing a moment to catch her breath, and flinched as the bleeding wound in her thigh from where Henry had stabbed her sent swells of pain shooting up her leg. "Y—you can't kill us."

Pennywise knitted his painted brows into a frown and rested both of his white gloved hands on either of her legs. Bev flinched, but did not dare remove her gaze from the fucking clown's for a second. He frowned, scowling, but gave a curt jerk of his head. "I'm listening," he growled angrily.

Bev wracked her brain as fast as she could, needing to think of something to set them free, and fast.

"Y—you can't kill us because…because… I saw it in those bright lights," she breathed, her blue eyes widening in a moment of triumphant victory as she watched as the clown's frown deepened, the groove near his red painted lips deepened. She knew she had him, and that Beverly was right in this regard.

"Your group let Denbrough go," Pennywise growled, the childlike intonations in his high-pitched voice gone. "I offered you a deal. Give me the older Denbrough boy, and I would all let you go free, free of this cursed wretched little town, to live happy successful lives," he snarled. "Or…I kill you all."

"H—Henry B—Bowers i—is the one who woke you up," Eddie squeaked, hardly believing he'd been able to hear his voice at all. "G—go after him, but l—leave us alone! Kill him, b—but n—not us, man!" he sobbed, tears pouring down his cheeks.

"Denbrough," Pennywise growled, his fingers curling into claws as they raked down in a continuous pattern on Beverly's leg. He breathed heavily, his nostrils flaring, like a bull that had been provoked.

"Wh—what?" Bev squeaked, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. "What do you want?"

Pennywise scowled, his frown deepening as his listless gray eyes fixed Beverly with a merciless stare. He scoffed, rolling his eyes, and knelt to rummage in her little black bag Henry had tossed at her feet.

"What do you want with Bill?" Beverly demanded, still struggling against the rope tied securely around her waist, wishing he wouldn't have put her wrists in a pair of blue plastic zip ties. She could already feel the skin of her wrists being rubbed raw, and unless she was imagining this next part, could feel the warm blood run over them, imagining the crimson garish red color against the white plastic zip ties. _Gross_.

She tried not to gag. Eddie let out a yelp as the clown moved swiftly to close the gap of space between them and backhanded her across her already bruised cheek, ignoring Eddie's screams to stop this.

"Shut. Up." The clown growled, turning the worst of his wrath back to the bound redhead in front of him. He knelt so he was at eye level with her, wanting to see the fear consume her in those big blue eyes of hers. "You keep up the attitude and don't do what I tell you, then I'm gonna have no choice but to feast on Eddie Spaghetti's bones and make you watch as I eat him," he snarled meanly, baring his canines.

Beverly swallowed hard as she nodded mutely and hung her head in defeat, allowing a lock of red hair to fall in front of her face like a curtain, shielding her view from him.

"B—but what do you want with Bill?" Eddie squeaked, feeling a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He heard Bev's breaths catch in her throat, and he had a feeling she knew it too.

Pennywise's garish red lips curled upwards into a wide Cheshire Cat-like smile. Unnatural. Evil. "I offered you once the chance to be free," he breathed, his voice going low and soft, dangerously quiet, and the change in his tone and attitude, whenever he adapted a more serious persona, always frightened Bev and Eddie the most. They would have preferred his mocking, childlike behavior. "I offer it now again," Pennywise the Dancing Clown growled, standing now that he'd seemingly found whatever he was looking for in Beverly's bag. Clutched in his white gloved fist was her phone. "You robbed me of the chance to have both Denbrough boys as my…prizes," he whisper hissed through gritted teeth. "You bring me Billy Boy, and I'll call it…even," he breathed, a note of excitement creeping into his voice as his voice started to become higher and more childlike again. "I'd have liked the set. You're going to call him here, Bevvy… and I promise, I won't eat you or Eds. Cross my heart and hope to die. I swear!" His voice was much higher now, and he let a little giggle slip from his lips as he made the sign of the Hail Mary over his chest.

Once again, her fear found her. It spoke to her in its wicked voice that sounded way too much like Pennywise's high-pitched, childlike voice for her to be happy with whatever was happening to her and Eddie. It told her legs to go numb and weak, her stomach to lurch, and her chest to ache.

Back when her mom had been alive, she'd told Beverly once when she was four or five years old, that there was nothing to fear but fear itself, but still, she couldn't silence its voice as the fucking demonic clown from outer space cupped her chin in his gloved hand and tilted it sharply upwards.

He was forcing her to look at him, and he was still clutching her cell phone in his gloved hand.

"Let's give your little mutant boyfriend a call, won't we? Sooner he finds your old pal Billy and brings him to me, then I'll let you go, dollface. _Maybe_ ," he added meanly, his lips curling into a twisted sneer. "You play nice and play by my rules, then maybe you live. Your boyfriend gets what I ask for, brings me Denbrough, then you and little precious Eddie Spagehtti over there are gonna be free."

Beverly let out a whimper as he leaned in close, both of his hands on either side of the chair's armrest, the tip of his nose practically touching hers, and she could smell the stench of old blood that clung to him. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and pulled a face. She clenched her eyes shut as Eddie rattled off Bill's cell phone number, put his cell phone on speaker and held it out in front of her.

"Remember, Bevvy," Pennywise growled, "don't do anything stupid like try to kick me. You tell your freak boyfriend that if any of the other Losers show up and trying something _stupid_ , you and Eds are gonna be rewarded with a whole lotta pain for either one of you. Maybe even both, sweetheart."

Beverly nodded, blinking back briny tears, and letting out a shaking breath, willing herself to remain calm. She could swear her heart was about to leap out of its cage, it was pounding so hard against her chest. She swallowed as she heard Bill's voice answer as he picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?" he sounded exhausted and kind of freaked out.

"Hey, Bill," Beverly whispered, trying her hardest to fight down the crack in her voice. "I—it's me," she began hesitantly, coughing once to clear her throat and fight against the frog in her throat. "I—I know it's late. Eddie's with me, b—but I need you to come to the Neibolt House. Something's happened."

A beat. A pause. And then… "Wh—wha—what h—h-happened?" he asked, sounding like he was stifling a yawn. "Where are you, anyways? You guys w—weren't a—at sc—school today?"

"We…Bill, listen," pleaded Beverly, and she could swear she could hear her friend's breaths catch in his throat as he no doubt heard the desperation in her voice. "I really need you to get here. T-take Silver a—and hurry up. B—Bowers kidnapped us, left us here tied up." Beverly exchanged a quick glance with Eddie, who had been seated across from her chair, Pennywise had somehow separated the two of them, no doubt another form of mental torture as Eddie would be forced to helplessly watch whatever pain he inflicted on Bev, and glanced up towards Pennywise as an awkward silence filled the room.

"Why?" It sounded like Bill was frowning, and Beverly could almost picture it.

"Bill?" Eddie piped up; his voice louder than it usually was to ensure he was heard. "You need to get down here a—and find a way to free us all or the f—fucking clown's gonna kill us all!"

There was a long pause. "B—Bev…Eds…" he breathed. "S—s—seriously?" he sounded panicked.

"Yeah. Seriously, Billy Boy," Pennywise growled, losing his patience. He snatched the phone away and held his close to his mouth to speak into the phone's speaker.

"B-Bev? Eds? W—was that really him?" Bill wondered out loud, sounding ticked.

"You know it, Boy-O," growled Pennywise. "I'm the _mean_ , nasty jerk that's gonna start breaking your girlfriend's cute little delicious fingers if you don't start cooperating. Or maybe I'll bite out her tongue." The clown smiled, obviously enjoying the immense discomfort and tension in the room, only too happy to take over Beverly's portion of the conversation with Bill. "You got one hour to get over here, Billy Boy," he snarled, rolling his eyes, though he knew Bill could not see it. "Or your little girlfriend and Eddie Spaghetti are gonna be the next kids to show up on the missing posters, Denbrough."

Beverly let out a whimper as his free hand not clutching the phone in his gloved hand came up to grip her shoulder, and it was that one little whimper that they all knew Bill heard that was going to be enough to cause the alien to act on the guy's threat.

"N—no w—way you f—f-freak," he growled. "I s—swear to G-God i-if you so much as hurt them, I'll k—k—kill you, you a-asshole," Bill stuttered, and Bev cringed at hearing the coldness in his voice. She really hoped this wouldn't be his breaking point. He had worked so hard to change for the other Loser's, to try to put Georgie's death behind him as best as he could, and she didn't want to see him become that shell of a kid again. "I'll…I'll do it. Just give me some t-time to g—get over there."

IT nodded, seemingly pleased with the outcome for the moment. "Good. I knew you'd see reason. No need for this to end in a bloodbath," he growled. " _Don't_ keep me waiting."

Beverly blinked once or twice and focused on Eddie, choosing solely to focus on her friend's face. He seemed to be intently focusing on what their captor was saying to Bill into the phone. Beverly furrowed her brows in a frown. Why did that matter? They were being held captive here against their will, so what on earth would Eddie do with the information, even if his brain retained it?

"Please just let us go," she whispered, her voice low as he hung up the phone.

"Oh, Bevvy, you're such a card," the clown almost seemed to sing as Bev stared silently, glaring at the man from where she sat hogtied to the chair. "I can't let you out until Bill gets here, you know that. _That's_ the deal…" he smiled widely and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Please…" she whimpered, trying one more time. Her gaze fell to her black bag which he had dumped at her feet, feeling grateful he hadn't gone through it again. Once was more than enough to make her feel violated. If only he hadn't tied her legs to the chair, she could kick it. Maybe she had a pin or something she could pick at the ropes with, if only she could use her feet to kick, she might stand a chance of freeing herself and escaping with Eddie.

Beverly exhaled through her nose in frustration and fear. She watched in fear as the demonic clown stared at her silently, as if debating whether to threaten her with a slow, bloody, and painful death like last time, or something even worse. She nodded to herself, already knowing her punishment.

She felt tears welling and stinging in her eyes for what had to be like the third time in one night since they'd crossed paths with this creep. She met Eddie's gaze and he froze.

Eddie stared at Beverly and felt an immense wave of cold wash over his fragile little body that had nothing to do with the cool temperature of the drafty old Neibolt House that looked like it was one good swift kick away from coming down, with them inside it. He glanced back up at Bev's face, which was way too white to be considered healthy, and she was already naturally pale on a good day, but now, with how ashen and clammy her face was, and the forming of dark circles underneath her eyes, it gave her a pallid look, like a zombie.

He watched as Beverly bit her bottom lip in a slight pout and met his gaze. "D-don't cry, Bev. You're going to be okay. We're gonna get out of here. Bill's gonna come, and we'll all escape."

Pennywise threw back his head and laughed, standing in the corner, the only part of him that was visible were his eyes. Eddie shivered and returned his attention back to his friend.

But Beverly clenched her eyes shut and shook her head no, and that was when Kaspbrak realized that she wasn't worried for herself. Well, she was, but he knew she worried for Eddie. If Beverly put herself in danger by trying to escape from Bowers' house alone, well, she could have lived with that.

But the fact that Eddie, one of her best friends had been with her, and was pretty much helpless without his inhaler, had been with her at time, made her guilt come that much more worse and even more intense than she would have thought possible.

"It's going to be okay, Bev," he breathed, but he knew even as he said the words and Beverly blearily lifted her chin to meet his gaze, that they were both having trouble believing Eddie's reassuring words that were meant to bring some small form of comfort.

They weren't okay. They weren't anywhere _near_ okay.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Bev swallowed hard past the lump forming in her throat as she was unable to tear her gaze away from the glowing yellow pinpricks that stared back at her and Eddie's bound forms in the middle of the Neibolt House's living room. Every once in a while, the fucking clown would occasionally step from the shadows and make a passing comment, but by and by, IT remained silent, which almost unnerved Beverly even more than his taunts and threats at first. She furrowed her brows into a frown and glared at the clown, shifting in her seat as best as she could, given her restraints. "Why the fuck are you doing this?" she spat, hearing the venom in her words, though Marsh knew better than most that her fear tended to manifest in the form of her daddy's temper, which she had unfortunately inherited from him. "Look, you—you got _us_ , if _we're_ the ones you want. But why take Bill?"

Pennywise stepped from the shadows and closed off the gap of space that lay between the corner where he'd been idly standing in and where Henry Bowers had left Beverly and Eddie so cruelly confined to the damned chairs in the middle of the floor. Eddie let out a muffled squeak of breathy air but couldn't seem to find it in his voice to scream, since he'd kind of screamed himself hoarse earlier and was quite on the brink of losing his voice right now.

The fucking clown ignored her question and knelt down so he was at her eye level, his orange painted brows knitting together in an annoyed frown, and Bev let out a little whimper, just the smallest admission of fear, as she felt his white gloved hand come up to cup her chin and violently tilt it upwards, forcing her to meet IT's gaze.

"I'm not going to take Billy Boy, Bevvy, believe it or not," IT growled, sounding disgruntled and thoroughly put off. Bev blinked owlishly at him; certain she had misheard the fucking demonic clown from outer space.

"Wh— _what_?" she breathed, feeling her blue eyes go wide and round at the admission. "Th—then what the fuck was that?" she screeched, feeling her voice go up an octave. She was starting to sound like Eddie did whenever he got upset over something. "Why would you call Bill over here I—if you're not gonna eat all of us?" she whispered.

Beverly bit her lip, eyes everywhere but on Pennywise, not wanting to meet the creature's cold, listless gaze. Then he moved just that little bit closer with those haunting gray eyes that looked so deeply into her own eyes.

"Because," he confessed, his voice escaping him as a low, threatening growl that almost sounded amused, "it's _so_ much more fun watching those mean, nasty boys torment you instead," he admitted, clapping his hands together in a moment of glee, and then his gleeful expression soured as his smile faltered, "though that Bowers boy is one nasty kid." He crinkled his nose in disgust. "Just think of what he was going to _do_ to you if he hadn't stopped himself. He would have put his hands _all over you_ , _inside_ you even. But I…I can make all of that just…go away," he breathed, snapping his fingers as if to emphasize his point. "Pennywise is your _friend_ , Bevvy. I don't want to eat you. I want you and Eddie Spaghetti to come play with me. Where we'll all float in the sewers. Just say the word. Come with me…where you'll float." He grinned, revealing unnaturally pointed, razor sharp teeth that made poor Eddie clench his eyes shut, not wanting to see. "Besides," Pennywise breathed, the content tone lessening his voice now, "I did…promise you stupid Losers," he growled. "But that doesn't _mean_ ," he emphasized through gritted teeth, as he knelt and raked his unnaturally long fingers which had morphed into sharp claws, almost talons, down her thigh, though not enough to pierce her skin, almost tenderly so, "that your little friends won't see me again, Bevvy," he whispered, pulling back from whispering it into the shell of her ear to study Beverly's chalk-white face.

"Wh—what? What the fuck is he talking about, Bev?" squeaked Eddie, surprised he could even find his voice.

Beverly swallowed hard as she glanced up at Pennywise, who was regarding the young fiery redhead with a bemused little smirk on his face. "H—he's lying, Eds! Don't listen to him!" Beverly shouted, not daring to turn her gaze away from Pennywise. "You're worthless, you fucking creep. I hope you choke on your own spit," she growled, clenching her jaw shut.

Pennywise clucked his tongue in mock disappointment and wagged a gloved finger at her. "Not very nice to yell at your friend like that. Also, that's no way to talk to your guardian angel. So? I offer you my deal one more time. Do you want me to…save you both from whatever horrible, nasty things Bowers has planned for you? Think it over carefully, because if you don't want to take what I'm offering you, there's really not that much I can do for you Losers. He's just so much _bigger_ than you both. If you come with me, I can make the hurt go away, I know you know what I'm talking about, Marsh. You've seen it in my Deadlights, haven't you? We'll…meet again…very soon…You'll all come home, and you'll float down here. Yes, you will. You'll see. I don't even have to lift a finger."

Pennywise threw back his head and let out a cackling laugh that seemed to resonate within the Neibolt House, and both Eddie and Beverly let out a shaking breath as they watched the fucking clown slink back into the shadows and disappear towards the old well, no doubt to head back down below, to the sewers.

"Oh, thank fuck," Eddie breathed, not even giving a good goddamn that fresh tears were rolling down his cheeks as he struggled against his restraints. "B—Bev? Y—you okay? What the fuck was that all about huh? T—talk to me."

But Beverly shook her head and lowered it, dipping her chin so that a lock of red hair tumbled and fell into her face, effectively shielding what little she could see of Eddie's face out of her peripherals from her line of sight.

"H—he's crazy, Eds," she whispered, biting her bottom lip, and sticking it out in a slight pout. "Th—that's all." Beverly lifted her head and opened her mouth to speak again and was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming wide open. She let out a breathy little squeak and felt her shoulder slump in relief as Ben and Bill both walked in wielding baseball bats, totally ready to beat the shit out of Pennywise, though looking absolutely terrified.

"H—h—holy sh—shit," stammered Bill, his face just as white as Beverly and Eddie's. Ben dropped the bat he'd been carrying and bolted towards Beverly. "Y—y—you g—guys okay? Wh—where the h—hell d-did I—It go?"

"Back down into the sewers," shouted Eddie, violently thrashing against his restraints, letting out a yelp of relief as Ben dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a pocketknife and cut Eddie and Beverly out of their restraints. "F—fuck, we gotta—we gotta call someone a-and get the fuck out of here, guys, right fucking now, B—Bowers fucking stabbed Beverly in the freaking thigh!" he bellowed, wrenching to his feet and gingerly offering his hand to Beverly, Beverly barely managing to stifle her weak little smile as she heard his almost inaudible hiss at the contact as their hands brushed against her, and she knew he was thinking of all the germs and infections in this hellhole, and possibly the infection that would be forming in her leg if they couldn't get it treated, and fast.

"WHAT?" shouted Ben, all the color draining from his now almost-too thin face, now that he'd lost all of his weight by joining their school's track team. His own knuckles were white with the effort to steady himself, and Bev could tell the track star had been fully prepared to find Beverly's dead corpse lying lifeless in the Neibolt House when he and Bill had got there. He grabbed his girlfriend, a hand on either of her shoulders to prevent her from pitching forward, as her equilibrium was still off from having spent hours in a sitting position tied to these chairs. "That's not blood is it?" he shouted, his gaze drifting downwards towards her leg, at the garish dried crimson stain on her dress. His face drained of what little color was left as Beverly gave a curt nod, confirming his suspicions.

"Yeah," she whispered. "B—but it's fine, Hanscom," Bev urged quickly, glancing towards Eddie, who was already rummaging in his backpack for medical supplies. "J—just a flesh wound. Nothing Dr. K can't patch up, right? We don't need to get to a hospital. We're fine. Tired, fucking pissed and ready to kill Henry, though…"

Eddie responded in kind by flipping Beverly the bird, though he pulled out a wad of gauze and some disinfectant.

"I—it's not much, but it'll at least keep your dad from asking questions," he mumbled, handing the supplies to Ben. "Y—you should do it," he said, a light pink blush speckling along his cheeks as he turned his head away.

Ben worked quickly, with slightly shaking fingers lifting the skirts of her dress to assess the damage. "What the fuck, Bev…why…n—next time you and Eds walk to school, we're walking as a group," Ben growled angrily.

Bev let out a hiss as he poured the stinging disinfectant on the wound area, grinding her teeth in anticipation as the stuff stung and burned, though her daddy always told her growing up when the 'stingy stuff' as she called it when she was maybe five or six, was doing its job and burning away all the infections and the germs forming there. She shot him a kind smile and hoped it was reassuring to her boyfriend, though even she knew it didn't reach her eyes. "Won't get any argument from me," she whispered, standing to her feet and brushing her hands on the skirts of her now-ruined dress, tossing her red hair back over her shoulders, grabbing her little black bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Let's get the fuck out of here," Beverly snapped, casting one last wary glance towards the well.

Bev swallowed hard past the lump in her throat, feeling incredibly grateful Pennywise hadn't spilled the little secret. That she had in fact seen some kind of a premonition or vision in the fucking space clown's Deadlights, but…she could only remember fragments. Like a ship straining to see a light in a storm, everything was hazy. She could only remember parts. They were all in the sewers again, their parents' ages, early forties, probably. And…not all of them were there. Stan was missing. At the thought of what might have happened to Stan, Bev's heart gave a painful lurch and she shook her head violently to clear her thoughts of the fucking demonic clown.

"Bev?" Startled out of her thoughts of the clown and the rest of their friends, Bev turned, to see Ben. "You good?" He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and shot her a lopsided sort of smile, the other arm wrapping around her waist as Ben pulled her close, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. "You in a lotta pain? It looks like it hurts!"

"Twinges a little," she confessed, reaching up a hand to swipe her bangs out of her eyes. "But…it could have been a lot worse if you and Ben hadn't come when you did. I—I don't think I need to go to the hospital, but…"

She dug into her little black bag and pulled out her phone, on its last leg of battery life. "There's someone I gotta call. I don't care what the fuck Bowers threatened me and Eds with, I'm not gonna let him get away with this."

Bev scowled, furrowing her brows into a frown as she dialed the phone number for the local Derry police department. She put a finger to her lips, signaling her boyfriend and Bill and Eddie to be quiet while she talked.

"Hey, Derry PD? This is Bev Marsh. Calling to report a kidnapping…"

* * *

Bev _really_ hated this. She shivered, clutching herself as it was cold in here. She jerked upright, panicked, but her wrists refused to move. Something sharp and cold dug into her skin. She looked down groggily and saw that there were handcuffs holding her hands to the table. She bit her tongue, feeling an odd coldness on her tongue and that was when the door opened and slammed shut, making the young woman jump with the only little slack that she had. The grizzled cop in front of her was looking worn, his face lined and careworn. Bruce Bowers himself.

"Evening, Marsh. Didn't think I'd be seein' you so goddamned soon. Just wish it was under better circumstances," he growled, clamping a cigarette between his jaws. "I think you'll be pleased to know my piece of shit son is in jail, thanks to you and Evan Kaspbrak. Assigned to our case of the several missing kids goin' disappearing in Derry last few years. Been working this case for the last two years. I won't hurt you, but not many have escaped whoever is doing it, their clutches _alive_. I am here to interrogate you. Do you understand?"

He clamped a cigarette between his jaws and folded his arms across his chest. Bev nodded slowly, her brain working on overdrive to process all the information. There were a thousand retorts burning on the tip of her tongue, just begging to be released. Bev wanted to ask the cop where the police were when all of these murders first started happening, why it had taken them years to finally pay attention to all the children that were missing, and the very man who had saved her life was sitting just outside this room, waiting for her. But she very well couldn't tell them that their culprit was a demonic space clown…

They'd laugh at her, Ben, _and_ Eddie out of the station, though Eddie was at the hospital. Mrs. Kaspbrak had called Beverly's cell phone on the drive over in the back of the police cruiser from the hospital to the Derry Police Station, screaming obscenities at both Beverly and Ben, calling Bev names like dirty whore and little bitch, and saying how all of Eddie's friends from this godforsaken town were monsters.

Ben and Beverly, for the most part, let her get it out of her system and didn't take the woman's words to heart.

She was fairly certain Derry's chief of police, Bowers himself, wouldn't like that little fact. Bev nodded mutely, gingerly clutching her ribcage as she heaved trying to catch her breath. "It's fine," she panted, sitting up straighter in her chair as the cop took the chair opposite from her. This one at least seemed kinder than the last one had. But still, she hated it here. It felt wrong. "Can't Ben come in?" she pleaded as Bruce got himself settled and placed a bottle of unopened Aquafina water in front of her.

Out of all the times to talk to a cop, why did she have to talk alone? Her uncle was all the way back in Portland and very well couldn't serve as her lawyer states away. Then again, she had to remind herself, these guys just wanted to talk. To get her side of the story. Not accuse.

Bruce Bowers, she realized, and the rest of the others on the town's payroll, were just doing their jobs, and this guy's job right now was to question Bev and get her side of the story directly. "I'd just like to talk with you for now, Miss Marsh. You're not in trouble." Bruce forced a smile that didn't quite meet his green eyes. In fact, he looked to Bev like he was ticked. "Your boyfriend is right outside. I just need your version of what happened in the barn tonight, everything to start out, ma'am."

Bev swallowed past the lump forming in her throat and looked down at the water bottle. She was thirsty, and her throat felt scratchy and dry, and an hour ago she'd wanted nothing more than a simple drink. But now as she looked at the bottle, it almost felt like a trap. She recognized she was at the Derry Police Department, and they certainly weren't going to poison her or drug her or anything like that. But still…Beverly couldn't help but be cautious. And after the night she'd had, she didn't think the cops would blame for her being at least a little bit cautious.

Bruce laced his fingers together and regarded the broken young woman in front of him. "Can I get you anything else? You hungry? I think we got some donuts and bagels in the lounge if you're hungry. You look like you've not eaten in at least a day. Is it warm enough in here for you? You're shaking, ma'am. Do you have blood sugar dips, by any chance? You aren't a diabetic, are you? Donuts, we have donuts, somewhere if you are and haven't eaten. Want me to go get you one?"

"N—no," she stammered, folding her arms across her chest so that her now-bandaged hands were over her upper arms. "I—it's just been a long night, Officer. One I wasn't sure I was going to survive."

"No need for you to be scared," Bowers piped up reassuringly, offering her a smile and hoping it was genuine. "I'm just here to get the truth from you, that's all. I promise you, ma'am, that you're not in trouble. We just want to hear what happened. Shouldn't take long, miss."

Bev let out a tiny sigh and shivered, wrapping the blanket the cop had given her tighter around herself, letting the thing drape loosely over her shoulders as she chanced a glance towards the one-way mirror. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that Ben was standing on the other side of the glass. Though she couldn't see him, she could sense his presence. And right now, she needed for him to be sitting next to her, though she knew her request was going to be denied, that did not stop her from asking. "Can't Ben come in?" she pleaded. "I—if he doesn't say anything, can he just…sit next to me?"

But Bruce was shaking his head no. "Sorry, Miss ah…Marsh is it?" he added, scrunching his nose, and glancing down at the steno pad in front of him. "Um. Beverly is that right? But people call you Bev?"

"Only friends and family," corrected Bev immediately, a tremor of cold going down her spine and she shivered. She bit her bottom and lip and stared blankly at the bottled water in front of her. She had to start telling the cop the truth. "The truth," she whispered. "About your son. Who he is…he's a fucking monster, Officer Bowers, and you gotta keep him locked up. Send him to Shawshank State Prison, and keep him there," Bev knew she was going to look like she was covering for him if she didn't speak up, and fast. "I…he took me," she whispered hoarsely, and then, remember the man's last words to her, was quick to correct herself. "B—but he didn't… he didn't hurt me," she added softly, as Henry's threat lingered in her mind, refusing to part from her thoughts. If she told the truth, how he had almost strangled her to death, and she or Eddie told anyone, that he would find them both and slit their throats in their sleep and would most assuredly come after her, Ben, her friends and family. No. That she could not allow. "I—I swear," she breathed, hating the tremor laced in her voice.

The police officer quirked a brow at Bev and folded his arms across his chest. His scrutinizing gaze drifted down towards her arms and at the rapidly developing bruise that was already starting to purple underneath her eye. His gaze settled on her bandaged hands. "You have an awful lot of cuts and bruises on your arms. How did you get them? I have a feeling my asshole son was the one who did that to you an' the Kaspbrak boy. Am I right, Marsh?"

Bev felt the heat creep to her cheeks, and she could ignore the scratching sensation in her throat no longer and she shakily reached for the water bottle, undoing the cap with trembling fingers. "I…Ben and I were walking in the woods in the dark. I fell down a lot. Ran into branches, trees, you know how it goes when you're in the woods. I—I slipped. It was dark out, I couldn't see, rocks, branches, trees…"

"Oh?" he asked, narrowing his green eyes. Bruce leaned over the interrogation table and his fingertips grazed Bev's neck, to which she immediately shirked back from his gentle touch, her back resting against her chair as far as she could go.

"Don't," she pleaded, inhaling a sharp breath that pained her lungs. Before she could even fathom what she was doing, she reached up and slapped Bruce's hand away. "I—I'm sorry," she apologized as soon as she saw the all-too familiar flicker of anger pass through the cop's eyes. "I—I didn't mean to…" Bruce's lips pursed into a pencil-thin narrow line and he gave a curt nod, forcing an obviously faked smile, though Bev could read this man like a book.

It was in his eyes. Bev wished he had kept his trance at the spot on the wall behind her. The young woman knew that deliberation was over for him. He had judged her already, and in the cop's eyes she saw only misunderstanding and a cool hatred.

"It's okay," the police officer breathed, feeling his shoulders sag as he settled back in his chair. "Listen to me, Miss Marsh…I need you to be straight with me. Whatever Henry fuckin' said to you to make you scared, forget his words. I arrested the little snot-nosed bastard myself when you called. He'll spend the rest of his life in the state prison. I realize you know that you're a victim here. There's no point in trying to pretend otherwise." The cop hesitated, running his hands through his tuft of dark hair and fixing Bev with a glare. "I get it. What happened to you was scary. But you've gotta tell me everything you know, otherwise this meeting is all for nothin'."

Bruce Bowers reached over and grabbed Bev's hand, squeezing her right hand a little tighter than what would have supposed to have been reassuring. Bev flinched, saying nothing, and he let go of her. Bev jerked her hand back, tenderly rubbing it. The gauze that Eddie had helped her to wrap around her hand it was starting to loosen, but maybe once she got out of here, Ben could tighten it for her. He was good at tending wounds.

She swallowed nervously and glanced up at Bruce, who took a sip of coffee from his mug. The way his eyes squinted when the cop glared at Bev reminded her of a pit viper's slit-like pupils. She gulped a swig of her water nervously. A burning animosity was developing in the police officer's green orbs, and Bev could tell she was likely the root cause of the problem right now.

But still, she couldn't bring herself to talk about it. It was all too fresh. She just wanted to sleep.

"You can trust me, Miss Marsh. I'm an officer of the law, I'm on your side. It's my job to help people. So you have to tell me what happened to you, and it has to be the truth," he growled, leaning over the table and squinting his eyes at the markings It's strong fingers had made around her throat.

Bev swallowed another sip of water, all the while actively avoiding the police officer's piercing gaze that felt like it was burning a hole in her skull. She really wished her uncle were here. She didn't want to answer any more questions, though she knew that as a victim she wouldn't get in trouble tonight, but… She was also the victim here, and she doubted she was going to get in trouble if she refused to talk. The cop seemed to sense her hesitation and stifled a low growl from the back of his throat.

"Those are finger markings on your neck, Miss Marsh, and that bruise underneath your eye looks mighty painful. Doesn't take a genius to guess that our boy hit you while he had you cooped up in my own goddamned basement, am I right?" When Bev did not answer, the cop continued pressing the young woman. "Protecting someone, my own worthless son, no less, who hurt you is just going to make things worse, yeah? Especially if you're called to testify what happened to you in a court of law, it's going to look back, Miss Marsh. For _your_ sake. _Don't_. If someone threatened you, you gotta let me know. There's no need for you to protect that creep, Miss Marsh."

At his words, Bev bolted from her chair and backed herself further against the wall, pretty much into a corner.

Why was this cop cornering her in an interrogation room and treating her like she was a suspect? She hadn't done anything wrong! She just wanted to leave Derry! She wondered briefly if he had done the same to Eddie, questioned him until the point that he broke and did whatever the cop told her to do. Coercion.

Surely, this asshole realized she wasn't a criminal, right? "Get away from me, Bowers! I already told you and your friends at the scene everything I know. I—I invoke the fifth!" whisper-hissed Bev desperately through clenched teeth, back pressed against the wall. Every muscle bone and fiber in her body ached and screamed for relief, to sleep, but she couldn't. Bruce slowly raised his hands in defense. "Why am I being detained? You know this isn't right. I—I want a phone call. I'm calling my lawyer, Officer!"

"Miss Marsh, Beverly, can I call you that? I swear, I'm not trying to scare you. What you've been through tonight, no one should ever have to go through that, but you gotta start talking to me. I know my son did this."

An angry shout rent the air that rendered both Bev and the Derry police officer frozen to their respective spots. Both swiveled their heads towards the door. The knock came quietly first, and then there was silence, save for the occasional murmuring of Ben Hanscom's voice talking in low tones to someone.

The knock came again, louder and faster this time. Bev stood next to Bruce, who stared at the door, unmoving from her spot, nor he from his. "Bev?" came a voice, a man's, and Bev's ears perked up as she heard a sound that was unexpectedly comforting—her uncle's voice. "Beverly, honey? You in there, sweetheart? It's Uncle Greg. Let me in, Beverly, I can hear voices…" Greg Marsh knocked against the door, then yanked it open.

"Oh, Uncle Greg," Bev croaked hoarsely, feeling fresh tears well in her eyes. She hadn't realized how much she missed her uncle and how much she needed him here. Bev all throughout the trip up here had been worried what her uncle would think of her putting her own life in danger to catch a serial killer. Asking too many questions, asking the right questions to the wrong people, being ticked at her for getting into this mess, for not letting the proper authorities deal with this. But in the moment, she only wanted her uncle to hug her tight, to hold her, be overprotective. Greg Marsh strode into the room, Ben hovering by the door, his arms folded across his chest and a grim expression on his face.

He walked up to Bev slowly and pulled his niece closer to him wrapping his arms around her. His embrace was warm, and his arms seemed very protective when wrapped around Bev's frail, healing body. The world around Bev melted away as she squeezed him back, not wanting the moment to end. Her Uncle Greg, a well renowned attorney in his early forties, and still quite handsome with dark hair and kind green eyes behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses, was currently looked very upset. "What are you doing here, Uncle Greg?" she whispered, tightening her grip around her uncle's middle.

"Ben called me, asked me to catch the earliest plane I could. Told me what was happening. I know about your father, sweetheart. You're coming to live with me and your aunt in Portland until all this crap gets sorted out."

Bev snuggled in, "You're the only person I know that gives indefinite hugs."

Her uncle snickered, "Well, Bevvy, where else would I rather be?" In that moment, the arms squeezed a fraction tighter and Bev breathed more slowly, her body melting into her Uncle Greg's as every muscle lost its tension now that help was here. _This_ was life, real life, and she was headed for home. She craned her neck upward to look at her uncle, but she saw to her surprise her uncle was glowering at the police officer.

One glance over at Bruce was more than enough. Bev bit her lip to suppress her urge to break into laughter. She knew what the cop saw when he looked at Greg. Everybody always thought the same thing. Greg Marsh was fitter looking than anyone expected. His face told of a lean body beneath his black business suit and his expression behind his black-rimmed glasses was serious but not unkind. He had that beginning look of salt and pepper look that was beginning to fleck to his dark hair as he aged, against his still youthful skin it looked good on him. Bev Marsh in a sharp breath, steeling herself for one of her uncle's outbursts.

"How dare you?" Greg accused, glaring directly at Bruce. "Can't you see my niece has been through enough? She's lucky to be alive after the ordeal this Baines character put her through, and you want to traumatize her even _further_? How dare you take her in here, all alone without me being present. I'm a lawyer," he added coldly, seeing the look of dawning confusion in the cop's eyes as he opened his mouth to retort. "You're questioning her like she's some sort of…criminal," he growled. "She barely managed to escape with her life after being held against her will by a serial killer, Officer…?" He fell silent and waited.

"Bowers, sir," the police officer answered stiffly.

"I'm fine, Uncle Greg," Bev spoke up softly, still allowing her uncle to keep his arms around her shoulders.

"With all due respect, sir, your niece is covered in bruises and cuts. I know some asshole did this to her, but she won't talk. I gotta get to the bottom of this and having other people present in the room leads to a lot of witnesses and victims alike withholding vital information that will allow us to put this guy behind bars for good. That's why I wanted to talk to Miss Marsh alone. Lawyer or not, Mr. Marsh, with all due respect, you need to leave," growled Bruce, taking a step towards the uncle and niece. Greg instinctively pulled Bev back, stepping in front of her and holding out a hand in front of her to prevent her from taking another step forward.

When he spoke his next words the cop, his words were cold enough that even Bev shivered. " _No_. Just look at her. She's in no condition to answer any questions right now. You will _not_ talk to my niece like this. You cannot corner her and threaten her and demand she tell you what happened. My niece's wounds are healing, and her conditions are causing her a great deal of stress which your…aggressive methods of questioning will only exacerbate. Now, if you will excuse me, officer, I'm going to take my niece and her…boyfriend," here he glanced towards Bev for confirmation, who gave the tiniest of nods and a small crooked half-smile, and then his gaze flitted to Ben, who had entered the interrogation room and was hovering behind Bev, one hand on the small of her back and the other and he barely held back his smile as a pink blush graced his niece's cheeks. "And we're going to go home. You've already got her statement when your men arrived on the scene, and accounts from neighbors nearby the Neibolt House, who claimed to see a man running away around ten thirty that fit the description of your son's build and the clothes he was wearing," he added, glancing towards Bev and Ben for confirmation, who quickly nodded, confirming this bit. "That should suffice as evidence enough to hold up in his trial when he goes to court. Bev, Ben, let's get out of here and head for home. Come on, you two, let's get out of here. Right now," he added harshly.

She knew his fire-seed of anger that had seemingly sprouted without warning was more so directed towards the cop than at Bev or Ben, but still, sensing the irritation in his tone and seeing the agitation in his eyes behind his glasses, she hurried. Bev, sensing danger as the cop immediately opened his mouth to argue, took a ginger step forward, despite Greg's arm still planted firmly in front of her.

She peeked over his shoulder, having to stand on her tiptoes, or as well as she could given her ankle throbbed and screamed for relief, and the other was sprained, not to mention her poor thigh still throbbed from being stabbed, but it had been treated. Bev had undergone one hell of a night, however, and she just wanted it done. "I already told you everything, Officer. My Uncle Greg's right, sir. You can't keep me locked up in here. I can't force you to believe what I told you was the truth, but…I've already said everything there was to tell. I haven't done anything wrong. You can't keep me here," Bev reminded Bruce quietly, timidly.

The cop regarded the uncle and niece for what felt like an eternity in an uncomfortable silence. If tension in the room would have been a color, the air would have been scarlet. Finally, he huffed and exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're right, Miss Marsh. I can't keep you here, or force you to talk, but I wish you'd just tell me the truth. I know someone did those awful things to you. But you and your uncle are right. I can't force you. Though it would go easier for everyone if you would just say it."

"I am telling the truth." Bev flinched as she felt the lie escape her lies. Lying went completely against her nature, unless she was faced with no other choice while on a case, and to lie to a law enforcement officer was even worse, but she wanted nothing more than to put what happened behind her forever. If she told the truth about Pennywise, they would think she was insane and lock her up away someplace, and she'd never see the light of day ever again.

Greg nodded and put his hand on his niece's right shoulder, shooting the Derry police officer one last look of distrust as he steered her out of the interrogation room and towards the precinct's parking lot. "You're lucky you have someone like Ben Hanscom watching your back," he complimented, raising his voice loud enough so Ben, who hadn't left Bev's side once since the pair had re-emerged from the interrogation room, could hear him.

He chuckled as he watched Ben's face flush at the compliment. Leaning forward just slightly and lowering his voice so only Bev could hear, he spoke to his niece in low tones. "I'm really sorry about your dad. If I had known sooner how much of a sick fucking pervert that man is, your aunt and I would have come and got you a whole lot sooner, sweetheart," he apologized, his voice sounding pained. "But...Ben? Are you sure that's what you want? It won't…affect your friendships with any of the others kids?"

Bev nodded mutely, instinctively reaching for Ben's hard and giving it a squeeze. "Yes. I think…I think I've known for a while now, but…didn't want to admit it to myself," she whispered timidly.

Greg returned the nod, showing his only child he understood. "Good." He turned to Ben and regarded the dark-haired young man standing protectively next to Bev, and he did not bother to hide the small smile that crept onto his handsome but quite lined features. "Treat your woman like a queen, I always say," he said solemnly, clapping Ben on the shoulder. "Take care of my niece, Hanscom. And please…" he added, a sudden note of mock sternness twinkling in his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses, "When you come over, for the sake of my wife and your poor old Uncle Greg, Bev…keep your door open _three_ inches." His mouth was set into a hard line, though the corners of his mouth twitched, fighting a smile.

Ben looked surprised but quickly recovered. "Y—yes, sir," he stammered. "I promise."

Greg held open the car door of the taxi and gestured for the two to get in the backseat.

"Let's go home," Greg said, chuckling softly at witnessing the silent exchange between Ben and Bev. With Ben, Greg knew, it was different for his niece than it had ever been with Ned. The two didn't even have to communicate in words, because even now, as they sat in silence in the backseat of the cab, Bev's head resting against Ben's chest as she slowly drifted into an easy sleep.

Greg knew that that Bev could not see the world through his eyes, and mostly it was a good thing she couldn't. She was so like her mother (his sister) had been, seeing excitement and possibilities, whereas Greg saw a world of danger and uncertainty. She wanted to walk out of their house after dark, and why shouldn't she? Take on a serial killer her own age and live to tell about it? Why the fuck not. When Bev would rail against the confines of being a woman in a world that wasn't necessarily kind to women, even in this modern day and age, Greg was reminded of its unfairness. To him, as her uncle, it was simply a reality he unquestioningly accepted. A reality he was forced to impose on her lest he wanted the risk of burying her one day, just as her had done for his wife.

And he didn't. Yet, as he glanced in the review mirror at the pair now sleeping soundly in the backseat, he was filled with a newfound sense of admiration and respect for the Hanscom boy. He just wanted his niece to be happy. And it would seem to Greg that she had finally found her source of happiness. In Ben.

And if that were good enough for Bev, then it would be good enough for him too.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Beverly rested against the wall of the garden that rested at the edge of the city's little park, where they held the annual Fourth of July celebration every year, smoking the last cigarette in her bag as she waited for the rest of the Losers to join her. She smirked, the corners of her mouth turning upwards as Eddie was the first one to join her.

They were all meeting here to catch the latest creature movie, some movie about a killer shark, and go out for pizza, and then she and Ben were leaving for Portland to start enrolling in summer college courses. But first. Priorities. Eddie and Richie could talk of nothing else but seeing this movie for the last two weeks. One of their classmates had said it was really good.

"Hey, Eds. You're here a little early," she murmured, stamping out the last of her cigarette butt onto the stone wall and chucking it into the trash can by her side, standing and brushing the palms of her hands on the skirts of her dress. Eddie was looking a little worse for wear, the bruises from where Bowers had pummeled him still showing no signs of healing any time soon. She dug into her bag and pulled out another one. "You want one?" she mumbled, clamping the little nicotine cancer stick in between her teeth and fumbling for her lighter, lighting the damned thing with some difficulty, as best as she could with bandaged and shaking hands.

"Gimme that," grumbled Eddie, his dark brows knitting together as he swiped the lighter from Bev and held it to her mouth, flicking it on and letting Beverly hold the cigarette steady. "Where are the others? Are they here yet?"

"Nope. Just you and me, Eddie Spaghetti," Bev joked, though her smile did not reach her eyes as she reached over and playfully tousled Eddie's hair and fixed the collar of his pink polo shirt. It was a moment before she spoke. "You holding up okay? Your mom still giving you shit about hanging out with the rest of the Losers?" she asked.

To her surprise, Eddie shook his head. "Uh-huh. I sorta…lost my cool with her the other day, after she called you some really awful things," Eddie mumbled, a light pink blush speckling along his cheeks as he reached up a hand to scratch at an itch behind his ear. "I get sick of it, you know? I—if it weren't for you, Bev, th-then Henry would have fuckin' killed me. But you…" He sighed, turning away from her for a moment. "You're strong."

Bev scowled, her brows knitting together in a frown. "No, I'm not," she whispered, hating hearing the crack and dip in her voice. She huffed in frustration and glanced down at her new outfit, wondering why the hell she'd agreed to let her aunt dress her up for this date with Ben and the others.

It was just to the movies, not like Ben was taking her to the freaking prom or anything like that. Bev gave a tug at her dress, wondering if Ben would think it was way too much. With each tug she gave, the front went lower, and so she stopped, her face flushing in embarrassment at the few interested glances from men her age shot Bev's way. Bev let out a heavy sigh and glanced down at her new outfit, thinking it was entirely too much for a first 'official' date with Ben, but her Aunt Helen had insisted. With no time to catch the next bus to change, given she'd chosen to walk instead of taking her aunt's car, so she was just going to have to wing it.

"Ugh. This is what I get for allowing myself to be her mannequin," she sighed, glancing at her reflection in a nearby mirror of a clothing boutique's shop window. Her new dress was an indigo floral blue maxi wrap dress with flouncy short sleeves, patterned with tiny flowers on the bodice, and a knotted tie at the waistline and a femme flowy high-low bottom hem, the very epitome of femininity, and quite honestly, the last thing Bev would have chosen to dress herself even, but even she had to admit, Bess had good taste.

The outfit looked good on her. Bev sighed again and glanced down at her feet, wiggling her toes in her new rose gold open toed sandals. She would have just preferred jeans and a nice top for a casual date to a movie and out for pizza afterward, but _no_ , Bess just _had_ to dress her up to look nice for Ben.

Bev frowned. She knew better than most that Ben could care less what she wore, but Bess refused to let her leave the store until they found the perfect outfit. The redhead let out a heavy sigh, checking her phone for messages before plunking it back into her brand new small brown canvas messenger bag that she wore slung over her body since it was a crossbody, the one item Bev refused to let her have any control over whatsoever, despite her aunt's insistence she thought it was for guys.

It wasn't anything special, really, though Bev liked the owl keychain on the front of her new purse that hung off the keychain clip on the front of the bag, and her Aunt Helen had told her owls were the symbol of wisdom, which she appreciated her efforts to make her feel better. She accepted the gift graciously, and promised to take good care of it, knowing it would take a lot more than a few unruly tree branches and wood brush or her little bulldog puppy to put a hole into her new bag.

She would make sure of it, especially given it was a gift from her. The dark brown color would go with most of the outfits in her closet, and with plenty of zippers and pockets for all her things, and a key-ring clip on the outside let her clip a mini hand sanitizer and mini flashlight to her bag.

Helen had given her the cute little blue and pink owl keychain off one of her own bags that gave the bag a little pop of color and a feminine vibe, so that helped. Bev glanced at her reflection and sighed.

Her fiery red hair had been gathered into a loose bun, allowing for a few tendrils to escape and frame her face, the bun at the base of her neck fastened together with a blue flower clip, courtesy also, of Bess, and her makeup.

She waited on the bridge that overlooked the canal, away from the noise. Bev had been especially jumpy lately, more prone to frequent nightmares. Almost every night since she had called in their kidnapping to the cops, she'd been having nightmares, seeing both Henry and IT's faces in her dreams.

One night, she'd woken up in hysterics and it had taken her aunt and uncle both to calm her down and coax her out of her closet where she'd taken refuge, feeling confident that Henry Bowers had escaped the sanitarium where he was undoubtedly going to spend the rest of his life imprisoned.

Given that Ben and the rest of the Losers was still a few minutes late, Bev motioned with a wave of her arm for Eddie to join her, having decided to go for a walk, careful not to stray too far from the movie theater, heading towards the park.

There was no one else in the park but an old gent who appeared to be reading a newspaper. Bev paused at the gate, the greenery was already charcoal and two dimensional and the gray path was melting into the night.

She shivered. It sure was cold; now that jacket her aunt had tried to force on her didn't seem like such a bad idea. Across the park cut ten minutes off her trip towards the movie theaters, to safety, where hopefully, the rest of the gang was waiting for her at the front of the movie theater, more if she ran.

_But that man, just sitting there, how does he even see the print?_ She resolved to walk quickly, her rose gold sandals moving quietly over the tarmac until she stepped on a twig or dried leaf left over from the fall. She didn't want to stare but her eyes kept flicking to the man, so still, so decrepit.

Now that she was closer his attire was discernible from the darkening gloom. As she approached, she locked her gaze dead ahead, but once she reached his bench, he was gone. Bev felt a cold chill travel down her spine as his gaze, hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses, met her gaze, and she hated not being able to read the emotions in the man's eyes, given they remained hidden.

She liked to be able to tell what a person might be thinking or feeling at all times. Call her paranoid, but there was no changing that little quirk about Beverly Marsh.

The young woman felt her fingers curl instinctively, almost protectively so over her purse. The last thing she needed right now was to get robbed in the park in the evening, which, by all accounts and purposes, would be easy enough for this man to do, she supposed, given Ben hadn't met her yet.

She didn't know why that man had seemingly taken an interest in her, or what he was doing here, but the fact that he'd managed to give her the slip unnerved her.

Bev swallowed past the lump forming in her throat and glanced around. _No sign of him_ , she thought, heaving a dejected sigh. Still, she could not shake the feeling of unease and that brief shadow of doubt that pricked at her heart. Like something was wrong.

Deciding she needed a distraction, Bev sauntered over towards the old bridge that connected the park with the downtown shopping plaza. The lake-side air was pungent with the fragrance of jasmine. This was no natural basin filled with melt water, but the luxury addition to a formal garden by an earl with both copious leisure time and money. The man who had built the park's garden was something of an eccentric businessman.

On his death he bequeathed it to a charity to run for their benefit. For a small fee tourists and locals alike could escape the traffic and the frenetic movement of people. Bev stepped closer to the edge and crouched down.

From six feet up the surface was an opaque green, but from just two it was clear enough to see the plants and life below the surface. She had expected the highly colored Japanese Koi Carp and she wasn't disappointed, if anything Bev was impressed.

They were huge and numerous, each about as long as her arm. Bev gazed across the wind-ruffed surface to the lily pads in bloom, their white or magenta petals catching the breeze. She inhaled slowly. Peace. Her own little piece of heaven in this shitty hovel of a town called Derry.

It was worth it coming here many times over. Worth the annual membership fee.

She glanced around at the several hundreds of initials and poorly drawn hearts etched into the old bridge's woodwork. Dubbed the Kissing Bridge by the high school and college kids, it had a reputation. Bev furrowed her brow into a frown at some of the name.

A few she recognized, but most…she didn't, and briefly, she wondered what would happen if she were to carve her and Ben's initials into the wood, a permanent addition to the bridge.

Though it was no secret in a town the size of Derry, almost everyone knew who Bev was.

And now that she had been officially dating Ben for a solid eight months, well…everyone knew who he was too. Bev continued her leisurely stroll through the bridge, almost at a snail's pace, glancing around at all the names.

This was it, where her actions had led her. For better or worse, she was here now, waiting on Ben, who was going on around two minutes late, but then again, considering how many times she'd been late for a date, she let it go. It was in this moment that she knew she loved Ben. Like _really_ , genuinely loved him.

It was a strange feeling, foreign to her, one she knew she'd never experienced with anyone, not once. They'd been dating almost nine months now, but with Ben, it felt natural.

Like she didn't have to try or hide or alter any aspect of her personality. He loved all of her, exactly the way she was. She couldn't ask for anything more than that, really.

Bev furrowed her brow into a light frown as she thought of this being her last day in Derry...for now. She didn't want to go back to that horrible place in her mind, where bad things and memories dwelled. But sooner or later, she'd have to go back. Pennywise had been right.

Though she could only remember fragments, she knew that when they were a little older, they would return to defeat IT for good, and…not all of them would make it out, but…she was tired of running away. Bev knew that tragedies, especially shared traumas, were a finicky thing. Some bound others to a place, while others drove them away.

But she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that hers and Eddie's were unique, something shared for them. Just them, and them alone.

Which, in its own twisted kind of way, she supposed, was kind of nice. She scoffed, rolling her eyes, and made to turn away when a man's voice caught her from behind, a familiar voice.

"Hey, Bev." Eddie's voice sounded small and kind of timid as he rested his arms against the bridge's railing, looking out onto the canal water. "I—I know I don't say it a lot, but…you're one of my best friends, and…thanks."

Bev blinked, not having anticipated the compliment, and quickly brushed it away with a curt wave of her hand as she moved to stand next to Eddie on the Kissing Bridge. She rolled her eyes and scoffed as Eddie blushed and playfully socked him on the arm.

"Relax, Dr. K," she joked, referring to a few nights ago when he'd patched up her leg. She still walked with kind of a slight limp, but she was going to be okay. "I'm not gonna kiss you. Ben and Trashmouth Tozier will kill me if I tried." Bev shot her friend a coy little wink and turned away as Eddie's blush deepened.

"Do you…do you think IT will come back?" Eddie's voice sounded distant, but still very much worried.

Bev bit her bottom lip hard enough to bleed and to prevent a tiny muffled squeak from escaping her mouth. She had sworn herself to secrecy, promising she wouldn't reveal to any of the other Losers what she had seen in his goddamned Deadlights.

Besides, she didn't feel comfortable sharing only portions of a vision she could hardly remember. "Yes," she admitted at last. It would do her no good to lie to her friend here. Not now.

Not after all the crap her and Eddie had been through over the span of the last three days. "And when it does…we'll face IT again. Together." She smiled and reached for Eddie's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Eddie returned the smile and gave off the tiniest of nods. He didn't need to say anything. It was all in his eyes. That her answer was good enough for him.

One day, in the distant future, their shared tragedy would reunite all of the Losers home. "I live my whole life afraid. Afraid of what I'd leave behind. What comes next, but…now I know that's not right," Eddie whispered.

"You should be proud of yourself, Eds. Not many kids in Derry go up against Bowers and his crew live to tell about it." Bev glanced to the left and shot Eddie a kind smile. "We have one hell of a story to tell. But…I don't think this is the end. Not for you. Not for me, for any of us, really. You gotta follow your own path…wherever that takes you. Think of today, our last day together as a group….as a _promise_. To me. To you. To each other. An oath. See, the thing about being a loser is…you don't have anything to lose, so…no matter what, if IT comes back, we'll come back too." Bev let out a content little sigh as the wind rustled her hair, tossing it into buoyant curls.

Eddie smiled and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, pulling his second best friend close, letting her head rest against his shoulder, before steering her towards the left, where he could already Richie's shouting something to Mike and Ben as the group headed towards their rendezvous point, the outside of the old Derry movie theater.

"Together," he whispered, not bothering to stop the small smile from forming on his face as he relinquished his grip on Bev's shoulder so she could move to stand near Ben. As long as they were together, they had everything.

They had each other. And that was good enough for him.


End file.
